


Send Us a Blindfold, Send Us a Blade

by queengabby



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Aveline is everyone's mom, Comedy, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Friends to Lovers, InternallyConflicted!Fenris, PeanutGallery!Varric, Sexual Content, Slow Build, blind!Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queengabby/pseuds/queengabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke is a jovial and brazen mage with a mischievous spark in her eye -- who just so happens to be in love with perhaps the most stubborn man she'd ever met. What happens when that spark dulls, and the world goes black? </p><p>"If the Maker can see me right now, I hope he knows that he certainly has a bad sense of humor."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I treat my writing like I do my artwork -- I do it and then I leave it for a while, come back later, and re-evaluate it. This story is no exception, and I will mark down any changes. Don't worry! None will change the main course of the story, I just rework my dialogue a lot. 
> 
> 2015-09-13: slight edits made in most of the chapters, fixed awk phrasing and changed some confusing actions.

There were two kinds of people at the Hanged Man – the quick and the hungry. Or at least, that’s what Hawke said every time they sat down for a meal at the filthy tavern. Fenris doubted Corff ever ran out of food, since the only people he ever saw eating it were his other companions. Hawke’s group had gained most of their notoriety for constantly eating whatever sludge Corff decided to call stew that day.

“Seven bowls of the stew, Norah!” Hawke called to the barmaid as she took her place near the head of the table.

Norah watched the group sit down, re-lighting some of the candles in the middle of the table that had gone out.

“And seven steins of your finest brew” Varric chimed in, taking his seat at the head of the table next to Hawke. The dwarf exchanged smirks with Hawke while the rest of their companions filed in.

Fenris sat on Hawke’s right, and Aveline sat opposite of her from across the table. When Merrill arrived moments later, she took her seat next to (a reluctant) Fenris. In the beginning, Fenris had vehemently objected to being seated next to Merrill. Hawke’s response to the outburst had alleviated some of his anger and replaced it with horror when she said: it’s either this or you’ll have to sit next to Anders.

In the end, Fenris conceded; and eventually he felt only a dull annoyance when the Dalish elf took her spot at the table. It was better a blood mage than an actual abomination – and the further Anders was from Hawke, the more relaxed Fenris was.

Norah brought out the drinks first, and all in attendance quickly grabbed a mug. “So what’s on tomorrow’s agenda, Hawke?” Varric began, leaning back in his chair with his drink cradled in his arms. “Are we frolicking along the Wounded Coast for precious herbs?”

Hawke, in the midst of taking a sip, almost snorted ale out of her nose. This was an obvious jibe at an earlier conversation the dwarf had with Merrill. Hawke had found the idea of ‘frolicking’ much funnier than the rest of the companions, and Varric had quickly taken advantage of it. She coughed once and gave Varric a mirthful look. “Watch your tongue.” She wiped her mouth and continued, “If you’re going to make me choke to death, I doubt we’ll be going anywhere after this evening.”

“Though it is evident you plan to stay here until the ale is gone.” Fenris added. He wasn’t certain if Hawke guffawed at his comment, or at Varric’s shocked expression. Either way, both Hawke and Varric cracked up while Aveline sighed louder than usual.

“Both of you haven’t even had a full mug and you’re giggling like the wives in Hightown.” Hawke seemed to calm down when Aveline caught her with a stern gaze. “Can you settle down until everyone is here, at least?”

Fenris glanced over at Hawke as she put her hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I digress. I’m sure the mystery meat stew will have us all sitting up straighter – oh, hello again Norah!”

The barmaid returned with several bowls of the house special just as Isabela sat down. “Oh, great. I’m just in time for the evening sludge.”

“Don’t be rude.” Aveline shot back, and Fenris suspected it was mostly for Norah’s sake. Though, in his opinion, Norah was showing the same level of disinterest as she always did.

At a place like the Hanged Man, the amount of people who insulted the food was probably about the same as the amount of people who ordered seconds. When people were desperate for food, they’d eat just about anything.

Anders joined the group not far behind, “I don’t care if it has nug in it tonight, I’m eating it.” He said, presumably in response to Isabela.  
“Ugh. Don’t make me puke, Blondie. I’d like to finish my drink tonight.”

“I quite like the stew, actually” Merrill chimed in, blowing on a spoon filled with an unidentifiable vegetable (Fenris was hoping that was potato and not something else entirely).

“So tell me Hawke,” Aveline began, not even looking at her meal. “You mentioned going to visit – who was it again? Gascard DuBois?”

“DuPuis,” Hawke corrected between spoonfuls. She took a swig of her drink and wiped the corners of her mouth before adding, “I wanted to do it tomorrow, actually. Emeric told me about him.”

“You want to go to Gascard’s house in Hightown? Are you mad?” Anders asked.

“Do you have a better idea or do you simply enjoy listening to yourself talk?” Fenris snapped back automatically. He knew how Hawke didn’t like him picking fights with the apostate – but just the way the abomination spoke to Hawke was enough to make the hair at the nape of his neck bristle. Anders gave him a hateful glare from his seat before clarifying.

“Let me finish, _beast_.”

Hawke hit her spoon against the side of her mug a few times, until they both looked at her. It was made of thick crystal, (most of the cups were mismatched between metals and glass – Hawke was the only one to ever get the latter) and the noise was loud enough that Fenris was expecting it to crack.

“Both of you please.” She gave each of them a meaningful look before putting her spoon down. Fenris imagined it to be a weapon she used to signify some sort of surrender. “As much as I am very used to ignoring your bickering, it is getting in the way of our planning. Now, Anders, do you have a suggestion?”

It wasn’t a challenge for Fenris to hold his tongue whilst Hawke addressed Anders, but it took a considerable amount of strength for him not to strangle the abomination when it gave him a disgusting look of satisfaction over being allowed to continue.

“I was just going to suggest that this be put in motion under the cover of night. It would be much easier not to rise suspicion, especially since it’s Hightown.” Anders sat back in his chair, and Fenris saw in his peripheral vision how the mage was looking about five different shades of smug. He didn’t do him the pleasure of returning the gaze.

“We still haven’t been able to find the sick bastard behind all those missing women, and Gascard is our only lead.” Varric said, and pointed his finger at Anders. “But we can’t wait until tomorrow evening, he might be gone by then. Or worse – he could know we’re after him.”

“We’ll have to go tonight.” Hawke concluded. Fenris blinked and looked over at her. “Any volunteers?” she asked with a smile on her face, glancing around at her companions. She looked hopeful, but her good nature quickly dissipated as the silence stretched out.

“If I had known a few days in advance, I’d say yes. But…” Anders said first, and apologized. “I have to return to the clinic after dinner, I promised I would be available for the evening.”

Fenris didn’t know if he was lying, but Anders always had the most pitiable reasons for being unavailable. He did not want to be the one to accuse a healer of using the sick to avoid helping Hawke. Regardless, Fenris didn’t believe for one second that the apostate wouldn’t lie if the opportunity presented itself.

“I’ll go.” Aveline said, interrupting Fenris’ contemplation. He nodded in agreement with the Guard Captain.

“As will I.” he said, and Hawke flashed him a brilliant smile before turning to the rest of their group.

“I guess since I was the one who suggested it, I’ll tag along.” Varric raised his hands in resignation, but gave Hawke a smirk.

“Fantastic!” Hawke cheered, offering her mug up for a toast before finishing the last drops of her ale.

* * *

Fenris walked a few steps behind Hawke on their way to Gascard’s mansion. He enjoyed being part of their quests, though he would never admit such a thing aloud. He had come to respect Hawke for her no-tolerance policy against slavers, but Fenris suspected her soft spot for mages was because she herself was one.

Fenris had become so accustomed to magic that he could feel even the weakest spell if it was close enough. The exertion of mana in battle was tangible to him, and it made the lyrium in his veins ache. Somehow, Hawke probably knew. After all, they had been fighting together for quite some time.

He refused all healing magic, and only resorted to healing potions when he absolutely needed them. Unlike some members of the party, Fenris had learned to survive by tenacity alone.

When Fenris first joined Hawke’s group, she offered to heal his wounds after each battle. The very first time she did, he rejected the offer vehemently. This earned a few dirty looks from other allies, but Hawke shrugged it off in a matter of seconds. He didn’t understand how she smiled when he treated her so poorly – but he missed his opportunity to accept her offer, and Fenris found himself feeling something akin to regret. Hawke didn’t volunteer to mend his wounds after that incident, and Fenris wondered if she would ever ask or if he had missed his only chance.

Months after, they had been in an exceptionally tough fight and Fenris had dislocated his shoulder. Hawke, like the magnificent woman she was, had finally offered him a healing spell. After all this time, however, Fenris was too ashamed to say yes. He found it within himself to decline politely, and she startled him with a dramatic sigh.  
  
_“I finally find the perfect time to offer you a bit of healing magic, and you still remain stubborn as always!” Hawke had said, sounding incredulous. But when Fenris looked up, he saw a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Though, a bit more polite, I must add.”_

_“I appreciate the offer but I am fine.” He chose his words carefully, even more careful because his shoulder was a mess and he wanted to curse at himself. He didn’t deserve her kindness._

_“How about you let me pop your shoulder back into place, free of charge? No magic, I promise.” She grinned, and he knew in that moment that she had no intention of holding a grudge against him for saying no._

_“Deal.”_  
  
Fenris’ circumstances hadn’t been ideal for a very long time, but if he had to work with anyone, he was glad he ended up with Hawke. She was trustworthy, and he found himself respecting her more and more as the days passed.

“Keep together” Hawke reminded the group, and Fenris came on high alert. Varric broke the lock on Gascard’s front door, and gestured for Hawke to enter.  
“Ladies first,” he smiled at Hawke who grinned back, and then looked to Aveline who followed after Hawke.

“Make sure to take off your shoes – oh, never mind.” The dwarf commented when he entered the house after Fenris.

“Aha! That’s quite funny, actually.” Hawke let out a snort and looked at Fenris’ bare feet.

“May I remind everyone that we’re breaking into a house.” Aveline said, her hand on the hilt of her blade, but eyeing Fenris’ feet all the same.

“Could we choose another time to point out my lack of footware?” Fenris finally said, moving his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“Right, sorry.” Said Hawke, and took her staff into her hands.

As they moved towards the staircase, Fenris took note of a small writing desk.

“What’s this?” Hawke asked, and picked up a letter on the desk. Fenris quickly preoccupied himself, unable to decipher the scrawl on the parchment and too proud to show that it was a problem.

“A Thank You note.” Varric said, his tone grim, and Fenris felt his gut sink.

“Let’s keep moving.” Hawke mumbled.

When they neared the stairs, Fenris felt the lyrium in his skin start to sting.

“Hawke – wait.” he said, and before he realized it, his blade was instinctively in his hands. “Do you feel that?” he asked, and Hawke scanned the room.  
As if on queue, several shades emerged from the floor, blocking the staircase and front door.

“Well, that’s wonderful!” Hawke said, shooting ice magic out of the tip of her staff, freezing several shades and letting Fenris shatter them with a mighty swing of his sword. Aveline ran up to Hawke, taking a defensive position as Hawke backed up and continued with range spells.

Fenris was right to assume that the entire house was littered with shades and abominations. After fighting through several rounds of monsters, they finally reached one of the last rooms, where Gascard was waiting.

Hawke opened the door to find Gascard standing over a terrified woman.

“Help me, please! He’s gone mad!” the woman wailed from the floor. Fenris could practically hear the cogs spinning in Hawke’s mind, putting all the pieces together as she decided what their next move was.

“You’re…you’re not him!” Gascard said as the party approached. “Shit…I know what this must look like –” he said, and Hawke folded her arms on her chest. “But I didn’t hurt her!”

“So the wild-eyed hysteria is just for show, then?” Hawke asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“You don’t understand. Someone is after her. I just had to keep her safe! Let me explain!” Gascard was grappling for mercy now, even Fenris could see he was going to lose.

“Alright. We’ll see if you can talk your way out of this.” Hawke said, and thus, Gascard began pleading his case.

He explained how his sister had been murdered several years ago, and now the same killer was in Kirkwall. Gascard knew it was the same person because of the bouquet of white lilies, and used this to explain why the woman, Alessa, was with him.

“So you’re telling me that you’re using Alessa as bait, then.” Hawke summarized.

“Yes—well, no!”

“He’s lying! He hurt me!” Alessa spoke up again.

Gascard turned to look at Alessa. “I’ve explained this. I need your blood to track you down if he took you. It was for your protection!”

“Let go of me!” she screamed, losing her footing but still running for her life.

“She’ll go straight to the city guard! They’ll ruin everything!” Gascard pointed to her, and looked at Hawke.

It was only a moment before Hawke made her decision.

“It’s a nice story, but I don’t buy it.” She said, unfolding her arms and grabbing her staff.

“No. I’ve worked too hard. It cannot end like this!” Gascard said, readying his own staff and summoning shades.

Fenris became surrounded by shades, and as a consequence, separated from Hawke. She was fighting Gascard near the balcony of the room. Alone.

“Aveline! Go help Hawke, I can handle this.” He shouted over the clanging of metal. Aveline let out a cry, splitting a shade in two before answering.

“No! You help Hawke! You’re faster, and I’ve got a shield.” She reasoned, turning and bashing one of the shades with it.

Perhaps it was Aveline’s position as city guard captain that stopped Fenris from questioning her, but he moved to the other side of the room, killing all things in his way. He only caught a glimpse of Varric, and heard the mechanical sound of Bianca as he backed up Aveline against the enemies.

“Give it up Gascard!” Hawke yelled over the sound of cracking ice. Fenris saw that she had him in a corner.

“You don’t understand! You are blind to the truth!” Gascard said back, and Fenris saw the blood mage concocting a sinister-looking spell. It was a hex.

Hawke built up a fire spell, but Fenris knew that she was too far away to see what kind of spell Gascard was using. He saw the familiar glint of a blade when Gascard brought it down hard over his own wrist. “I will show you what it means to lose everything!”

He was amplifying a spell with his own blood. He was resorting to the same kind of savagery that magisters used in Tevinter – and Hawke was no match unless she did the same. Fenris knew that she wouldn’t.

“Hawke, it’s a trap!” Fenris cried, but he was suddenly blocked by more shades. He cut at them desperately, trying to get to her before Gascard could unleash it. Didn’t she know anything about hexes? Didn’t she see?!

Aveline was at Fenris’ side, killing some of the shades in their way. Fenris heard an arrow shoot past him, and into Gascard’s arm.

“Argh!” Gascard cried, unleashing the spell full-force onto Hawke at the last second. The spell clung onto her robes and found purchase on her skin.

Fenris, now free of shades, ran up to Gascard and grabbed him by the neck. The abomination let out a blood-curdling scream that was cut off when Fenris finally crushed his throat.

“Hawke! Are you alright?” Fenris heard Aveline say, running over to Hawke and setting down her equipment. He looked over and saw his teammates helping Hawke to her feet.

“Is everyone okay?” Hawke asked, her voice weak. She was shaking.

“We’re fine Hawke, what happened?” Varric asked and Hawke rubbed her forehead, looking down at the floor.

“I-I don’t know. It’s too dark, I can’t see a thing.”

Aveline and Varric both went completely rigid. Fenris felt himself stop breathing.

“The candles are still lit, Hawke.” Varric said, his voice now strained.

Hawke froze, and then looked up at the group. Fenris finally saw her usually clear eyes were now clouded over.

She was blind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA sorry there, I completely posted Chapter 3 instead of 2, so I'll just post Chapter 3 today as well. Sorry about those who are confused omg.

It was quiet in Darktown at night. Fenris found himself wishing for some sort of distraction as they made their way to Anders’ clinic; partly because he had no reassuring words for their situation, and partly because Hawke was hanging off of him and he had no idea why his stomach was tied in knots at the contact. At first, Aveline had attached herself to Hawke’s side, hooking her arm around the smaller mage’s shoulders. However, her armor was too bulky, and almost hit Hawke in the nose during several sharp turns.

Varric proved to be too short, and warned Hawke that he would be a poor guide because he couldn’t even reach her waist.

“I certainly don’t want to make Bianca ASSume anything.” Hawke said good-naturedly, despite being blinded not ten minutes prior. Though Fenris saw her smile falter, and so he calmly offered to be the one who would escort her to the clinic.

Fenris was certain it wasn’t ideal for her, and he tried to be as polite as possible when he nudged her to loop her arm through his. She hadn’t given much of a response when he volunteered, but she obliged and held onto his arm gently. Aside from Varric making comments about Dark Town, and Aveline pointing out where to step, the group was silent. Walking arm in arm with Hawke to Anders’ clinic didn’t wound Fenris’ pride as much as it would have a few months ago, but he had no idea how she felt. Was it degrading to be guided by an escaped slave? Wasn’t she panicking at all? Their leader was blind, but it felt as if the rest of their party members were the ones that would be stumbling around in the dark.

When they finally made it up the staircase to the clinic and Aveline announced their arrival, Fenris was a bit surprised that she didn’t let go immediately. Or perhaps she would have, if not for her blindness. But she did squeeze his arm in acknowledgement. If Fenris had been the one to lose his vision, he knew he would fair much worse than her. He probably wouldn’t have been able to walk through half of Kirkwall, even with the help of the others.

“Thank you.” she said to him. She didn’t let go of his arm, but had turned slightly to look towards him – through him. Fenris could see the slight crease between her brow, and knew it hinted at something grim that was slowly eating away at her confidence.

“Aveline? What are you doing here?” Fenris recognized Anders’ voice immediately. When the rest of them walked through the entrance, Fenris saw Anders’ gaze turn from the Guard Captain to Hawke.

“What’s the matter?” Anders asked, and Hawke looked sightlessly forward.

“Well for starters, it seems as though it’s terribly dark in every room I’m in and nobody is being nice enough to light a candle or two.” Hawke joked, despite the joyless situation.

“She’s gone blind.” Aveline said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We went to see Gascard DuPuis, and he was using blood magic.”

“He insisted he wasn’t the actual killer but his story was complete nonsense.” Hawke explained.

“So we fought him – and man that guy might as well have been a shade breeder. I’ve never seen so many at once.” Varric continued.

“But at the very end, he decided he was too much of a coward to face Hawke without tempting demons. So he cast a spell using blood magic, and now Hawke cannot see.” Fenris concluded.

There was a long pause before Hawke piped up. “I really think we ought to make a habit of telling stories like that, it’s pleasant when we all work together!”  

Anders sighed. “Come take a seat, I’ll see if there’s something I can do.”  

Fenris lead Hawke over to one of the medical tables and positioned her so she could balance her arms on the edge and hop up by herself.

“The table is right behind you.” He mumbled, letting go of her arm and watching her feel behind herself for the fabric draped off the counter. She quickly found it and moved herself accordingly, taking a seat and dangling her feet off the edge.

Anders moved some of his equipment over before beginning. “So Hawke, I’m right here. I’m going to get rather close to examine your eyes, and I’ll keep talking so I don’t startle you.”

“Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I _can_ hear other sounds besides voices you know.” Hawke said, “I can hear the rustling of fabric exceptionally well and, hmm…well, I heard a lot of feet shuffling. Varric even sneezed a few times on our way here.”

“But you didn’t say ‘bless you, Varric’. Isn’t that a human etiquette thing?” Varric said, a crooked smile on his face.

“Well usually the person who sneezes is supposed to say ‘excuse me’, out of politeness.”

“I was too busy covering my mouth in preparation for the next sneeze…Out of politeness.”

Hawke chuckled at Varric’s reply, while Anders grew increasingly more impatient. Fenris figured Hawke was trying to cover up the jab at her pride rather than making an attempt to guilt Anders over his comment.

“Regardless, my point was that I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Anders ended Varric and Hawke’s banter, pressing his fingers at one side of her temple, peering into one of her eyes.

Suddenly, the entire situation felt very intimate. Fenris wasn’t entirely familiar with medical practices, but it seemed a bit invasive to be in the room while Hawke was being examined. Though, the others didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“It seems as though your cornea wasn’t cut or burned, but there’s a slight clouding in and around your pupil…” Anders mumbled, seeming to be talking more to himself than anyone around him. He wrote down something quickly in a notebook and flipped through it to an earlier entry. He spoke a bit louder when he asked, “You said this was blood magic?”

“I saw him cut open his wrist when he was being cornered by Hawke. There is no other explanation.” Fenris replied, feeling slightly irritated that Anders’ tone suggested he was doubtful.

“The guy had hundreds of shades and a few rage demons fighting for him, Blondie. It’s pretty clear he’s not afraid of a little blood.” Varric crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the group. Aveline seemed to nod in agreement.

“I’ve only seen mild cases of blindness that are temporary.” Anders explained, running his finger along one of the pages of his notebook. “There is a hex that is used amongst some mages. It is a disorientation spell that can have blindness as a side effect. It’s commonly referred to as the ‘Misdirection Hex’.” Anders explained. “If it is as I believe, your vision should return in a few hours.”

“Does the Misdirection Hex require blood magic?” Hawke asked, and Anders shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t. That’s the part that worries me. But for now, I’m saying that your blindness will probably be gone by tomorrow.”

Hawke mulled over Anders’ conclusion, running her fingers over her mouth a few times in contemplation. She paused, and then sighed. “I don’t know Anders. Normally I’d say ‘I’ll look into it’ and go back to my library to do some research myself. However, as it stands, I can’t see a bloody thing so I can’t help.”

Fenris felt odd at Hawke’s revelation. At the mention of reading, it hit a nerve and he suddenly realized that she was about as helpless as him now. He couldn’t understand the words, but she couldn’t even see them on the page.

“I’m sure I must have at least a few books in my collection that talk about hexes and blood magic. I’ll spend some time looking them up, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If you’re healed by tomorrow, come by the clinic to let me know.” Anders said, and Hawke nodded, smiling weakly.

“It’s getting pretty late. We should bring Hawke home and call it a night.” Aveline said, and Fenris stepped up to Hawke as she hopped down from the table. She didn’t move for a moment, but then tentatively called out his name.

“Fenris?” she asked, and held out her hand helplessly. For some reason, seeing her like that twisted his stomach. Suddenly, the woman who always lead, and who was always so sure of herself was now quite the opposite. For all the trust he put in her, he hoped she would do the same for him. He gently took her by the wrist and guided it into the crook of his arm.

“This way.” He said, trying to make his voice gentle, but grimaced as it came out just as gruff as usual. It surprised him to see that Hawke smiled in return.

“Thank you Anders, and good night.” She said before being guided out of the clinic.

* * *

“I’m going to head back to the Hanged Man for the night, you sure you’re alright without me Hawke?” Varric asked, as they stopped in Lowtown. Hawke nodded in reply.

“I’ll be fine Varric. As long as I can find my way home and into bed, sleeping will be quite easy.” Hawke paused. “You know, considering how everything is already so dark.”

“I’m glad you’ve retained that sense of humor through all this.” Varric gave her his trademark crooked smile and bid them both a good evening.

They travelled into Hightown markets before Aveline spoke up. “Would you like me to keep you company, Hawke? You know I wouldn’t mind.”

            Hawke gave her a short laugh. “You and Varric dote on me so often, it’s a wonder you’re not my mothers instead.”

            “I’m serious. I could even explain what happened to Leandra.”

            “It’s alright Aveline, I’m sure this is only temporary. You’ve got a lot to do now that you’re the Guard Captain, so don’t worry about me.” She paused and then smirked “Besides, I think I’d rather be the one to tell her, and I don’t want her chastising you for letting me ‘run off into battle’.”

            “You could use a stern talking to, you know.”

            “Ha ha.”

Hawke and Fenris both said goodnight to Aveline, and then continued up to the mansion district.

“Stairs,” Fenris warned, and slowed down for her to feel along the brick surface.

“For someone who’s usually so sour, you’re very good at helping people.” Hawke joked.

“I think you forget what I was before arriving in Kirkwall.” Fenris said patiently, but with a slight sourness. He understood Hawke well enough that her teasing meant no harm, but he was still on the run. “Being a slave in Tevinter means that you are always travelling with your master. Denarius enjoyed displaying his own possessions, which included myself.”

“What a surprise! I _never_ figured Denarius to be an exhibitionist.” Hawke said in mock dismay. Fenris couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. It was a deep, raw thing. His voice only becoming used to doing such a noise in the presence of Hawke.

“So you just went with him wherever he travelled?” she asked.

“I was his bodyguard. It is not uncommon for Magisters to have them. Only the most intimidating slaves are given the role—”

“Hence the tattoos, I suppose.” Hawke finished for him.

“Yes.”

They walked in silence for a while. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Have I made you upset?” Hawke asked, and Fenris blinked.

“No. Why?”

“It’s strange – I can’t see your expression so I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“Are you suggesting you usually know what I am thinking?”

“Ok, maybe not _all_ the time, but I’m good at guessing –”

“Stairs.” Fenris warned, and they both paused to let Hawke gain her surroundings.

“Oh, thank you. As I was saying…what I really mean is that usually I can tell if I’ve made you angry because your eyebrows knit together, and you look like you want to kick my shins.”

“If I were truly angry, I do not think your shins would be an immediate target.”

“I guess you _do_ have your conveniently sharp gauntlets. I’m sure those come in handy.”

They reached the front door to Hawke’s estate, and Fenris stopped. “We are here.” He said.

“Thank you for delivering me safely, Fenris.” She said, and then smiled.

“Is anyone home to see you inside?” he asked, and she nodded. He instantly regretted asking such a thing, it was none of his business. But Hawke answered nonetheless.

“Yes, mother might be gone but Bodahn and Sandal never leave, so I suspect they won’t let me bump into any furniture or fall into the fireplace.”

Fenris smirked as Hawke unhooked her arm from his. She felt along the wall to the door handle, but turned to look in his direction.

“I’m glad we got to talk Fenris.” She said, her eyes staring past some of the greenery that had crawled in between the entrance to the door. “I’m sure my eyesight will be back by tomorrow, and we can all celebrate with a few rounds at the Hanged Man.” She said cheerfully, and then opened the door to the estate, closing it behind her.

Fenris had a sinking feeling in his gut that Hawke would be forced to walk in the shadows much longer than she anticipated.


	3. Chapter 3

When Hawke awoke the next morning, she saw nothing. At first, she figured it was past midnight or her blinds were pulled shut – but then the previous day’s events finally caught up with her and she began to panic.

She felt beads of sweat on her forehead, and the hair on the nape of her neck felt hot. Her breathing became erratic, and she had to force her head between her knees to calm down. Hawke wrapped her arms around her legs and held that position for an immeasurable amount of time. She decided it was easier to just keep her eyes shut for the time being; to pretend. Because Hawke knew the moment that reality finally sunk in – the fact that she may not get her vision back – shook her deeply.

It wasn’t like yesterday. Yesterday, Hawke could hide behind a fake diagnosis. She could say that the effects just hadn’t worn off yet. But now it was past that point, and she still couldn’t see. The only person who had any idea what Hawke was inflicted with was dead. Today she was truly blind. Today marked the day she became a sightless leader.

“Mother?” Hawke called, pulling her bedsheets up and over her head like a cape. If she were to be completely honest with herself, Hawke felt like crying. “Mother? Bodahn, is anyone there? I need help.”

“Messere? Would you like me to come in?” Hawke heard Bodahn call and she immediately turned to the direction of the door.

“Yes, it’s fine! Come in.”

Bodahn opened the door and walked in a few steps. “Your mother is still sleeping. How is your eyesight this morning?”

“I can’t see anything.” She said, trying to sound frustrated but ended up just sounding frightened.

“Oh my…this is terrible news indeed! Can I do anything to help?”

“I need someone to help me to Anders’ clinic. Send word to Varric first, and if he can’t help, I’m sure he can redirect the message to someone who can.”

“Forgive me for asking but did someone help you to the estate last night? Perhaps they could escort you back to the clinic.” Bodahn suggested.

“It was Fenris, but I don’t want to impose.” That, and she didn’t want to alarm him with her crumbling composure.

Bodahn left the room to do as Hawke instructed, and Hawke was left with the task of finding her armor. She distinctly remembered laying it somewhere on the ground…

Ah! Found it! She heaved on all the different pieces with relative ease. The perks of wearing armor all the time is that you memorize what it looks like, even in the dark.

Another knock at the door. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you again but there is a gentleman waiting at the entrance for you.”

Who could have possibly arrived so fast? “Bodahn did you send those letters already?” Hawke asked, walking a few steps to the door and feeling her way to the handle. She opened the door and Bodahn answered feverishly.

“No messere! I only just sat down to write them a moment ago.”

“Hawke? Are you there?” came a familiar healer’s voice.

“Anders? Is that you?” Hawke called, and then Bodahn lead her to the staircase, where she made her way down while holding the railing.

“So I see you’ve noticed the hex hasn’t gone away.” Anders’ voice was bleak. They were lead into the study, where Hawke sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace.

“Did you get any new information?” Hawke asked. She could hear him pacing on the carpet.

“Yes, I managed to find some information on hexes that included blood magic.” He replied, but then didn’t continue.

“Anders, it would help if you told me.” She finally said, crossing one leg over the other.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“Waking up and being unable to see an inch in front of my face is a good indication of how high my hopes are for a simple solution. Just tell me.”

“Alright,” Anders stopped pacing, and the room went silent except for the crackling in the fireplace. “It would be simple if this were a normal hex, however, with the addition of blood magic, you’re looking at extremely powerful, and perhaps permanent effects.”

Hawke felt her stomach drop, and she lowered her head.

“There could be a tiny mutation in your eyes that I cannot see. An important component of your eyes could have been displaced or burned off entirely. I don’t know for certain, but what I do know is that this is much more severe than I thought.” Anders sighed, and then continued.

“When you said blood magic last night, I didn’t want to believe it because that would make the hex much more sophisticated and dangerous. I cannot help with simple spirit healing. You’re looking at a complex spell that may require someone familiar with both blood magic, and the demons connected with it.”

“Did I make it in time?!” came a familiar Dalish accent. Soft jogging came to Hawke’s attention, and it soon stopped close to Anders’ voice. “Anders, I’m so sorry I’m late, I got lost and had to retrace my steps four times. You wouldn’t believe the amount of crumbs – oh Hawke!”

Hawke felt small arms wrap around her neck, and took a moment to recognize it was a hug.

“It’s good to see you Merrill – er, well, it’s good to hear you, at least.”

Merrill stepped back and touched Hawke’s hand. “I can’t believe this would happen to you! Anders explained everything to me. We should go see the Keeper on Sundermount as soon as you’re ready. Oh, look you’ve got your armor on and everything, how lovely!”

“I would bring you to Sundermount, but I think it would be best to get Aveline or Varric to come with you instead. I will stay in the clinic and do as much research as I can, just to make sure I haven’t overlooked anything.” Anders explained, and Hawke nodded once.

She was already dreading the news.

* * *

Varric arrived shortly after Hawke sent out word, and when they left the estate to get Aveline, the party bumped into Fenris.

“Good morning Fenris!” Merrill called out, and Hawke didn’t need her vision to know Fenris was trying his best not to sneer at the blood mage.

“Fenris? I didn’t think you’d be up so early.” Hawke teased, her head moving slightly, trying to detect any sort of noise he was making.

“I am always up early.”

“No rest for the wicked, Broody?” Varric joked.

“We’re going to Sundermount,” explained Hawke before Fenris could reply to the dwarf. “Anders asked Merrill to take me to the Keeper. He didn’t know what kind of hex we were dealing with so he wanted me to ask the Dalish.”

“They’re going to be so thrilled to see us.” Varric added, and Hawke laughed shortly in reply.

“Well they’re always so pleasant, I just love visiting them. They seem so willing to help whenever I ask even the simplest tasks!” Hawke continued her dramatic sarcasm until Merrill interrupted.

“Oh, well, I don’t know about that…they’re a bit tiresome sometimes, and – oh. That was sarcasm.”

“You got it, Daisy.”

“Anyway, since you’re here, maybe you’d like to tag along?” Hawke asked Fenris.

“If that is what you wish.”

Hawke groaned, folding her arms over her chest. “Is that what you want, Fenris?”

He paused for a moment, considering her words. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” She said, letting her arms loose and holding one out to his. She heard Merrill and Varric shuffle onward, talking as they headed towards the stairwell. To her surprise, she felt the cold metal of Fenris’ gauntlets on the inside of her wrist, and the warm underside of his palm on her fingers. He guided, with her hand in his, her arm into the crook of his elbow and gently let go of her hand. Hawke held onto his arm, feeling much more self-conscious than the previous night.

“Are you alright?” Fenris asked and Hawke flinched, unaware how absorbed she was in her own thoughts.

“I’ve certainly been better.” She confided.

“I am sorry.” He spoke softer now.

“Why in the world would you be sorry, Fenris?” she angled her face to look at him.

“I could not reach him in time. If I had only gotten there sooner, I could have prevented this.”

“I wasn’t being careful, and that’s not your fault.” Hawke said, but didn’t hear Fenris say anything in return.

When they reached the edge of Sundermount, it was mid afternoon. Merrill took position in the front, while Varric took a position on Hawke’s left. She suddenly felt very much like a child. She couldn’t see, so she couldn’t fight. If a dangerous enemy were to approach them, what could she do? Fenris would have to protect both of them.

Hawke was officially a burden. That kind of revelation did not settle well with her.

“Watch your step, shem.” Came a Dalish accent, somewhere on Hawke’s right. She heard the familiar murmur of elves amongst themselves, probably complaining about her entire party.

“I sure do love being in the Dalish camp, it’s probably on my list of favorite places to be.” Hawke jibed. She felt Fenris hold her arm a bit tighter, and they were walking a bit faster than before. Clearly trying to avoid as much scrutiny as possible.

“Andaran atish’an, Lethallan.” Came the soft voice of the Keeper. She felt Fenris relax slightly, slowing down and coming to a stop.

“Andaran atish’an, Keeper.” Merrill replied.

“What brings you back to us?” the Keeper asked, and Hawke was suddenly hit with the horrible realization that she didn’t want to hear what the Keeper had to say. She didn’t want to know that she was permanently blind. As soon as that claim was validated, the reality of it might just crush her.

“Hawke has been cursed with a tainted Misdirection Hex.” Merrill explained, and stepped out of the way between Hawke and the Keeper.

“You are speaking of the use of blood magic, are you not?” the Keeper asked, and Merrill meekly replied with a yes.

Hawke knew the Keeper stepped forward, and she felt Fenris’ grip on her arm falter, but she quickly clenched her hand around his forearm, preventing his escape. He seemed to hesitate before ceasing his efforts completely, keeping a gentle grip on her arm with his own.

“Allow me to look at your eyes, child.” The Keeper spoke softly, her hands coming to rest gently on either side of Hawke’s head. The group was silent for an immeasurable amount of time while the Keeper peered into Hawke’s eyes, and then she stepped back.

“It is as you suspect. The light in her eyes has faded, and it was caused by powerful magic. Ir abelas, losing your sight is a dreadful thing.”

“Is it reversible?” Fenris asked, and Hawke felt the vibrations from his voice travel through where their arms were joined.

“With a large amount of mana, perhaps. Though, it would be a slow process.” The Keeper replied.

“It would have to heal over time?” Merrill asked. “Like a broken limb?”

“Yes, I believe so. However, using that much mana would require an outside source. It is too much for one person.” Said the Keeper. “And healing something as delicate as the eyes would require immense concentration. You are at risk of draining your mana pool before you truly begin any healing.”

“You mean…” Hawke closed her eyes. “Theoretically, I could heal myself. But I have to be replenishing my mana pool constantly? That sounds impossible! I’d have to be drinking lyrium potions all day!”

“That is what I suspect. However, I do not sense any lingering taint. The blood magic was used as a binding spell and made the hex much more powerful. That is all.” The Keeper reassured her, but Hawke didn’t feel comforted.

“How long would it take to get Hawke’s eyesight back to the way it was?” Varric asked.

“It depends on how large your mana pool is. It could take weeks. Perhaps months, and at most it would take almost a year.”

Hawke felt her stomach turn, and she gripped Fenris’ arm harder. She was going to be sick. She heard murmurs of disapproval and shock, but felt nothing coming from Fenris.

“Lyrium potions are normally used to replenish mana, we could buy a bunch of those and you could drink them as you heal,” suggested Merrill, but Varric disapproved of that idea.

“That’s going to cost hundreds of sovereigns! We can't collect the lyrium ourselves either, unless someone has a death wish I don't know about. You're also looking at really expensive prices to have someone process the stuff into something non-lethal.” The dwarf explained.

“I also can’t drink lyrium potions and heal myself the same time. It would be possible if it weren’t a place so delicate, but I could easily screw up my eyesight for good.” Hawke explained.

The group was quiet. As Hawke opened her mouth to speak again, Fenris’ voice came out first.

“You would need an abundance of lyrium.” Fenris said, “Lyrium that replenishes itself, that comes from an outside source.”

“Fenris?” Hawke called tentatively, uneasy from his tone of voice.

“Would my markings be a sufficient source of lyrium?” Fenris asked, directed moreso at the Keeper than at Hawke.

“No.” Hawke said, shaking her head.

“If your markings are made of pure lyrium, it is possible to transfer that power to Hawke.” The Keeper replied to Fenris, regardless of Hawke’s dismissal.

“That’s dangerous!” Merrill cried, and the Keeper hushed her gently.

“It is through my flesh, it would not harm her unless I wish it.” Fenris reasoned. He knew his own abilities better than anyone, but it still scared Hawke. Was he sure he could trust her not to mess it up? What if she hurt him?

“You would both need to be under complete control. You would need to push your lyrium into one part of your body – perhaps your hands – and Hawke would have to steadily collect it. Do you think you are capable?”

“Fenris, I don’t like this.” Hawke warned him, but he paid her no attention. She was a fool if she did not accept the offer. Who else could possibly lead them? She was their leader, and Fenris was going to make sure it stayed that way.

“Yes.” Fenris answered the Keeper, and Hawke’s jaw went slack.

There was a long pause before the Keeper spoke again. “It is nearing sunset. One of our camps uphill is vacant, and you may set up for the night if you wish it. We will meet tomorrow in the morning, and I will be present to help you control and transfer the lyrium. Dareth shiral.”

Hawke was speechless. She continued to be speechless as the group walked up the hill to the next camp, and still remained speechless as they set up their tents. Hawke could barely believe Fenris was so willing to use his markings -- the ones that illustrated just how deeply his hatred for magic went -- in order to help her. Not to mention that she was a mage as well, and she would be doing mage-y things to heal herself!

“Hawke, come have some chili! Varric made it extra spicy, it’ll warm you right up.” Merrill called to Hawke who was sitting near the edge of the camp. Merrill began shuffling over to Hawke with a bowl.

“Careful Daisy, don’t spill it in Hawke’s lap.” Varric said, his voice slightly strained – something Hawke noticed he only really did when talking about Merrill. He really was a doting mother hen.

“It’s fine, Varric, I’m not clumsy or anything! Whoop, almost tripped! Hold your hands out, I’ll give you the bowl. Just give me a moment to get around this log—”

“Give me the bowl. You do not need to injure Hawke further with your gracelessness.” Hawke heard Fenris say, and there was a small exchange before she heard his steady footfall come towards her, and his weight shift to sit next to her.

Hawke said thank you to the both of them, mostly to acknowledge Merrill’s effort in trying to help. There were a few instances she recalled Merrill dumping various things into Hawke’s lap – wanted or unwanted alike. Water was usually tolerable, but there seemed to be a growing trend of having hot breakfast being dropped on her legs. She was glad Fenris took over, for the sake of her lap.

Although Hawke couldn’t see, she was familiar enough with Sundermount to know Fenris had dropped her off in her usual spot – one she usually used on watch. There was a large tree root at her back, and she could hear the whispering of the tree’s leaves above her.

“Why did you put me at my watching station?” she asked, eating a spoonful of chili.

“Do you want to change locations?” he asked, and she felt herself shaking her head before she really thought about it.  
“No, it’s not that. I’m just…confused. I can’t see, so how can I detect enemies?”

“Perhaps training your other senses will help you become better at it.” He explained and she made a small ‘o’ with her mouth.

“Fenris?” she asked, and he gave a grunt in acknowledgement. “Why did you volunteer to use your markings? I thought you hated them.”

“I do. But it does not mean they are completely useless. They can serve a purpose.”

“If this works.”

“It will, Hawke.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You will not.”

“You don’t know that!” Hawke finally said, raising her voice in frustration. If she weren’t so aggravated, she would have apologized for accidentally throwing bits of chili in his direction.

But sometimes.

Sometimes she preferred it when she first met Fenris, because he was transparent. He said what was on his mind, and he meant it. 

It was obvious when he was cross because he would say so. He wasn’t patient, and he certainly wasn’t kind. Hawke couldn't remember when he had suddenly become so difficult to understand. It was as if being a friend was more confusing than being an acquaintance. Why did he treat her so gently only after she could not see his face?

“What I meant by my question was: why are you helping me?”

“Because you promised to help me.”

Hawke turned her head slightly to face him, having finished her meal. She set the bowl down at her feet. “What do you mean?”

“The night you spoke to Anso was the same night you agreed to help me find and kill Denarius. That is when you made your promise to me.” Fenris explained.

“Yes but it was such an obvious choice. Why wouldn’t I agree?”

“You act as if everyone in the world has your sensibility.” Fenris said, and she could hear the teasing note in his voice. “You were the first person I met who did not merely use me for personal gain. Not only that, but you are the first to seem trustworthy enough to keep a promise.”

“Clearly you have met no good people in your travels.” Hawke scoffed.

“Perhaps.” He said. “My point is that you agreed to help me before you were blind. That is enough for me to help you now.”

“I haven’t caught him yet.”

“But I know you will. You are capable.”

Hawke sighed. “Don’t worry, I don’t go back on my word.”

“Nor I.”

Hawke closed her eyes and smiled, unable to convey her gratefulness through any sort of touch. “Thank you for believing in me, Fenris.”

She felt a slight pressure in the middle of her back, and Fenris’ voice rumbled in her ear. “Thank you for giving me a choice, Hawke.” And then his hand was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

When morning came, Fenris was the first to wake. He watched the sun rise over the edges of the mountains as Varric wiped the sleep out of his eyes and joined him.

“Was she still in high spirits last night?” Varric asked, handing Fenris a small bowl of porridge.

“Yes. Though she did not understand why I volunteered to help her.”

“Broody, you were a ball of angry spikes when we first met you. Now you’re still a ball of spikes but you’re much more composed. At least now when you stab someone, you don’t smile as much.” 

“It is a delight I express internally.” Fenris said and Varric shook his head.

“Sometimes you’re pretty funny, though I wouldn’t say that kind of joke around folks in Hightown.” Varric sipped some sort of hot drink in a mug between comments.

When Fenris didn’t reply, Varric continued. “Let’s hope her good mood lasts during the healing sessions. You sure you want to do this?”

Fenris only nodded, finishing the bowl of porridge while the others woke up around them.

It wasn’t long after everyone had finished eating that Fenris spied the Keeper walking up to their camp.

“Andaran atish’an” the Keeper greeted, and Merrill repeated the greeting back to the Dalish elder. “Are you both ready to begin?” she asked Fenris and Hawke, who both nodded. She directed them to a grass covered area, near the tree Hawke had been sitting at the previous night. Hawke sat cross-legged, and Fenris sat opposite of her, barely brushing his knees against hers.

“You will need to remove your gauntlets.” The Keeper reminded Fenris, and so he begrudgingly started to work at the numerous clips embedded in the metal. When his hands were free, the Keeper instructed him to put them palm up in front of both he and Hawke.

“Concentrate on the lyrium, and try to bring it to your hands and fingers. Hawke’s skin will immediately absorb the lyrium and it will naturally turn to mana. I suspect the process will be done in a matter of seconds.” The Keeper continued to explain.

Fenris closed his eyes and concentrated on the lyrium in his veins. He felt the markings ignite, drawing the lyrium to the edges of his fingertips with relative ease – he had done this many times before, of course. Just never to help anyone…always to kill.

Then, Hawke was told to put her hands on top of Fenris’, palms facing downward. When she did, Fenris was surprised to feel her gently draining the lyrium like a subconscious thing. Didn’t it require any sort of training at all? Perhaps this was the gift of all mages. Fenris couldn’t help but feel a bit disgusted at the idea. Regardless, Fenris had offered his services and he knew that Hawke would only go as far as he allowed her to.

“That’s it, child. Now use that power to begin healing your eyes.” Came the Keeper’s voice.

Fenris felt like he was losing track of time. The push and pull of lyrium in their hands had a tempo, gently moving along with their own breathing. He was almost at a point where the edges of his consciousness began to fade, but before any sort of painful memory was forced out of him, Hawke’s hands were gone. It took him a moment to collect himself, having let out a small gasp when the contact was severed.

“Fenris, are you alright?” Hawke asked, the tone of concern in her voice not lost on him, but he nodded his head quickly, putting his hands on his legs for support.

“It is fine. Give me a moment.” He mumbled, and after a few moments of silence, he was able to dull the lyrium’s power until the glowing receded underneath his skin.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked when he finally looked up. Her eyes were still cloudy, but her cheeks were a gentle pink. Clearly the magic had given her a healthy glow in the process.

“No, I am fine.” He reassured her, but she gave him a doubtful look in return. He glanced over at the Keeper, who gave him a gentle nod.

“You should continue this process every day. Twice a day if you are capable.” She said.

“Do you have any idea how long it will take, Keeper? Now that you’ve seen them work together?” Merrill asked, and the Keeper hummed.

“As they work now, I would still say months. However, that all depends on if they improve their ability to convert the lyrium into mana.”

“We should head back to Kirkwall and tell everyone else the news.” Varric suggested, and Hawke gave a quick nod.

“Dareth shiral. I hope your eyesight returns soon, Hawke.”

“Thank you,”

            “Ma serannas, Keeper.” Merrill bowed slightly as the Keeper left the group and headed down the slopes of Sundermount.

* * *

            Fenris returned with the group to Kirkwall. Varric promised to tell Isabela the news when he returned to the Hanged Man, and Merrill said she would visit Anders’ clinic to do the same. That left only Aveline – who had enough sense to check up on Hawke herself. Fenris had just walked into the entryway of Hawke’s estate when Aveline walked up.

            “Hello Hawke,” she greeted, and Hawke broke into a smile.

            “Aveline! Fenris and I were just discussing when we should go see you.”

‘We’ she said so easily. Fenris was always amazed at how quickly Hawke had trusted him.

            “It’s alright, I was headed this way anyway. Thought I’d check in. How was Sundermount?”

            “The Keeper told us it will be a long process, but I’m perfectly capable of healing my own eyes, since I know them best. But that requires a lot of mana, so Fenris will be sharing his lyrium with me as I heal.”

            “’Sharing lyrium’?” she asked, glancing over at Fenris. “With your markings, I suspect.”

            “That is correct.” Fenris replied, and he saw the skepticism in her brows.

            “Are you certain that’s safe?” she asked, looking at Fenris.

            “It passes through my flesh before it makes any sort of contact with Hawke. It will harm me before it ever comes near her.” He explained.

            Aveline sighed, folding her arms. “Fine. But I want to see results soon or I’m looking for a new solution. This still sounds dangerous.”

            “ _Aveline,”_ Hawke said, sounding drained. “This is the best solution, even if it takes a long time. The blood magic is gone so there’s nothing left to do but heal my eyes.”

            “Alright.” She unfolded her arms and glanced behind her, before turning back. “I have to help with a patrol but I’ll come visit soon. See you later, Hawke. Fenris.” She nodded once, and was off.

            When Aveline was out of sight, Hawke snorted. “It’s so good to know all our companions put so much faith in us.” She said, and opened the door. “Are you coming in?” she asked, and Fenris froze.

            “I, uh…” he trailed off, not wanting to intrude.

            “Oh don’t be so nervous, you’ll be in here regularly to help me heal. Let’s get the awkwardness over with, Fenris.” She gestured for him to follow, and after some hesitance, he followed her.

            “Welcome home, Messere!” Fenris immediately recognized the dwarf merchant’s voice. Bodahn came over to the entryway, helping Hawke with her various belongings. “Leandra is visiting Gamlen for the afternoon, she said she would be back in the evening.”

            “Thank you Bodahn,” Hawke said, and then the tone of her voice dramatically changed. “Where’s my boy?” she called, and Fenris felt himself go into shock before he heard loud barking. Of course, her mabari.

            The mabari came into view, circling around Hawke a few times before stopping in front of her to be lovingly petted. “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed, and Fenris cleared his throat. The mabari’s ears perked up, and then his tongue stuck out as if he were _smiling,_ while he leapt over to Fenris, practically throwing him off balance with the dog’s constant circling at his feet.

            “No,” he said, trying to sound commanding. “Go to Hawke.” He said, but the mabari gave him a short bark, licking his legs, feet, and sniffing him all over. He always thought the mabari to be intelligent creatures, why wasn’t it listening? “ _Hawke”_ Fenris said, starting to grow exasperated. He didn’t know what the beast wanted with him, but he certainly wasn’t going to give him affection.

            He looked over, and she was laughing, trying to hide it behind the back of her hand as Bodahn watched the scene nervously.

            “Sorry, sorry,” she said between giggles, clapping her hands for the mabari to leave Fenris’ side. “Over here, boy, come sit down at the fireplace. Give our guest some room.” She laughed one last time, and then explained Fenris’ presence.

            “Basically, you’ll be seeing a lot of Fenris – since he’s helping me with my healing. But I’m sure if we improve our methods, my eyesight will be back in a few months.” She said, and Bodahn seemed intrigued.

            After instructing Bodahn on plans for dinner, she told Fenris she’d like to go to the library. He guided her to the other room, and closed the door as instructed.

            With the fireplace crackling nearby, Hawke was able to coordinate herself on the floor in front of it. “I was thinking we could try again today. Just because it was sort of odd to heal with everyone watching on Sundermount.” She explained, and Fenris agreed.

He sat down in the same position as they were on Sundermount. Taking off his gauntlets, he glanced up at Hawke who had turned her face towards the fire. Her eyes were closed, and there was a small smile gracing her lips.

It was in those moments that Fenris found Hawke truly bewitching. He felt an attraction, there was no doubt about it, but there was a difference between admiring and being able to say something about it.

“I am ready.” He said once his gauntlets were at his side. He put his hands out in front of him and gently eased the lyrium to his hands. Hawke tentatively put her hands out, and brushed her fingers on the inside of his palms.

“Is this alright?” she asked.

“Yes.” He replied, and swallowed once when she slid her hand forward to press her palm to his wrist.

“You can hold onto my wrist, if you want,” she spoke gently, and he did – only slightly. His fingers touched the soft skin where her wrist met her arm, and supported it with his own. “I’m going to heal now.” Hawke warned, and he simply grunted in acknowledgement.

He tried to remain calm as he pushed the lyrium into his fingers. Hawke’s thumb stroked once against his wrist and he tried to ignore it, closing his eyes and breathing out slowly.

The process was quiet. Neither of them spoke for a long time, but Fenris began feeling like he had on Sundermount. Even though the lyrium had already been permanently embedded in his body, there was something familiar about her drawing it out. As she continued, he felt himself fade in and out of consciousness, until eventually he felt himself being pulled into the past.

 

_“No need to look so happy.” Hawke said, and Fenris looked away._

_“What do you want, Hawke.” He asked, and he saw her sit next to him._

_“I wanted to ask you about Danarius.” She folded one leg over the other, and he simply frowned. They were on Sundermount – only a week after he had met her._

_“He was my master. He is still hunting me down. What more do you want?”_

_“Are you alright?” she asked and Fenris immediately began to bristle._

_“Why do you care? I did not ask for your pity.”_

_“Yes but you asked for my help, and so I’m asking you to in order for me to understand what kind of person we’ll be up against.”_

_“He is a magister from Tevinter. He uses blood magic, and he owns slaves.”_

_“Clearly he has no friends to speak of.” She joked, and he simply glared at her._

_“He has an apprentice Hadriana. She is equally as rotten, if not more.”_

_“Alright, that’s good to know.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Look, Fenris.” It surprised him to hear her irritated. “If we’re going to work together, I’m going to need you to lighten up. I get that you’re upset and I get that you’re angry and that’s completely valid. However, I cannot work with someone who simply refuses to trust me.”_

_“So you dislike that I want revenge?”_

_“No I think it’s great. Revenge, in this case, will be good for you. What I’m saying is that you need to stop treating me like I’m the enemy. You asked for my help, and I will readily give it to you.”_

_“How can you possibly think I will trust you simply because you ask me?”_

_“I’m giving you a choice. I can’t work with someone who puts a knife at my back every time I walk away, and I assume you feel the same.” She inched closer to him, looking him in the eyes. Her gaze blue, icey, and electric. “But I know you are genuine. I am loyal to you. No matter what happens. Understand?”_

_Fenris felt his ears burn and he had to look away from her. She was too much for him, she was too honest for him to even fathom understanding. “Yes.”_

_“Good.” She smiled, and he felt his shoulders ease in her presence. If he ended up leaving her group, he knew she would wave goodbye, with a promise to see him again someday._

 

            Fenris was suddenly ripped from his dream, gasping and choking on his own breath, backing away from Hawke who was looking positively horrified.

            “Fenris? Fenris, are you alright?” she asked, and Fenris’ eyes were wild before he shut them, willing himself to _breathe._ How did she bring back a memory like that? How did she reach into his mind and pull something forward with such ease? What if she could do it just as easily with the things he  _couldn't_ remember? Fenris' panic boiled over, clenching his fists.

            “What did you do, mage?!” he asked, opening his eyes to see Hawke’s eyes wide open. Although she couldn’t see him, she could hear him, and his words visibly made her flinch. She held up her hands in surrender, something that hit Fenris harder than if she had yelled back. She never raised her hands like that, especially to him. She always beat him with her quick wit, or her stern reasoning. Hawke did not back down.

            “I don’t know what happened, Fenris, I promise.” she looked like she wanted to run away, but her escape route couldn’t be planned without her vision. He couldn’t stand here and watch her fumble. He wouldn’t be subject to remembering things that confused him.

            “I…” he trailed off, now regretting the outburst. He shook his head, getting up. “I should take my leave.”

            “What did you see?” she asked suddenly and he shook his head.

            “What matters is that I saw anything at all.”

            “You can tell me what you saw, Fenris.” Hawke replied, sounding more like herself than she had all day.

            “It does not concern you.” He bit back, opening the door and walking out before she could reply, and before he could regret it.


	5. Chapter 5

Well, that could have gone better. Three years of knowing Fenris and it had been a long time since she made him so upset that he had left.

In the past, Hawke had always been able to convince Fenris to stay and explain before turning the other way and taking off. She had never reached a point where she had to make physical contact, always avoiding any type of direct confrontation that may make him shrink away. Creating that kind of friction was exactly why Fenris didn’t trust easily, she was certain of it. So she made sure to give him a chance to speak up and explain how he felt. He had always been well spoken, articulating everything with care. After a while, he just became more approachable.

Fenris even took a liking to planning their strategy, suggesting companions to bring along according to the type of task. He was brilliant, his insight born from years of experience both in combat and under the watchful gaze of a powerful, exploitative Tevinter mage.

Hawke whistled to her mabari, instructing him to guide her to the door and out into the main room.

“Messere, your guest left in quite a hurry, what shall I do about dinner?” Bodahn said, walking out of the kitchen.

“It’s fine, Bodahn – could you hand me a biscuit? – Fenris had something else to do, so he won’t be back in time to eat.” Hawke explained, giving the biscuit to the mabari hound who barked happily in reply.

The rest of the evening was spent in quiet company of Bodahn and Sandal, until Leandra returned from Gamlen’s.

Leandra hadn’t taken particularly well to Hawke’s blindness, doting on her constantly, and when the stress was too much to bear; she left for Gamlen’s or shut herself in her room.

Hawke returned to the study with Leandra when she decided to reveal to her mother what the Keeper had said about Fenris’ markings.

“And there’s no other way?” Leandra asked, pacing the front of the fireplace, similarly to Anders had just a few days prior.

In any other circumstance, this comparison wouldn’t have come to Hawke’s mind, but now that she relied on those small detections, Hawke found the repetition almost soothing – that at long last, she could feel something familiar in her routine. The tiniest details of her friends and family had to be documented in order for Hawke to adjust to her blindness, even if she believed it to be temporary.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Hawke said, and heard Leandra sigh, finally taking a seat in the chair facing the fireplace. “It’s not that bad, mother. I’ll be sitting here one day and then suddenly I will be able to feel the chagrin and discomfort of seeing Gamlen’s face again! Doesn’t that sound promising?”

“Dear, please do not speak like that about your uncle – and you know how I feel about that…elf.”

“He has a name, mother. I’ve known him for 3 years, that’s plenty of time to practice.” Hawke started to smile “It’s getting a bit awkward for you to just stare at Fenris and hope he understands you’re addressing him. Maybe using his name will help you remember.”

“You can give your clever tongue a rest around your own mother, because it’s not impressing anyone. Carver never would have let this happen – he never would have let his sister be blinded by a blood mage.”

Hawke scratched the back of her neck, sighing before trying again. “I’ve known Fenris for a long time and I trust him to help me. Carver wouldn’t have reached me in time, just like Fenris couldn’t. There’s nothing he could have done differently, mother.”

The room was quiet before Leandra spoke up again, “There must be another way, it sounds dangerous, love.”

Hawke shook her head, “I’ve looked over my options and this is the one I’m sticking with. I can’t keep hitting into walls and falling down stairs just because you’re uncomfortable with Fenris.”

“You need to start thinking about your _future_ ”

“Oh, not this again please. I’m not to be sold to a man for your peace of mind – Craig!” Hawke called to the main hall, her mabari coming into the room. Time for her to escape before Leandra started talking about suitors again.

“There is no point in hiding the fact that you are aging, my dear. And didn’t I tell you to call the dog something else? Why Craig of all things?”

Craig came bounding into the room as Hawke smiled. “Well, I was thinking of some sort of word that rhymes with blight, but there are none that really fit, so I started thinking of words that rhyme with plague. I didn’t want to make it _too_ obvious, in case that sort of thing is offensive, so I decided on the name Craig because well, I guess I figure the world could use another Craig.”

Leandra was quiet for a moment, and Hawke wondered if she had simply left in the middle of her explanation, but then Hawke heard a tired sigh. “There is no doubt that you are Malcolm’s daughter, of that I am certain.”

* * *

The next day, Hawke recruited the help of both Aveline and Varric on the trip to Anders’ clinic. When they picked up Varric at the Hanged Man, he eyed Hawke who was holding onto a piece of rope attached to Craig’s collar.

“I’m not one to judge mabari fashion, but what’s with the string?”

“Fenris is busy so I thought Craig might help me navigate to Anders’ clinic. I brought you two along in case he sees something chase-worthy.”

“Craig?” Aveline’s voice carried louder, a slight indication that she was now looking at Hawke. She could already imagine Aveline’s quizzical brow raised, “Why in…”

“Aveline, I have heard this story and, believe me, this one isn’t worth repeating.” Varric said.

“Didn't you know my mabari is named Craig?" Hawke sounded shocked. "Aveline, you've known Craig for years now!"

"Yes well I always assumed he had a name, I just thought it was 'Dog' for some reason." Aveline folded her arms over her chest, the metal of her armour clanking together. 

"Do you really think I'd name my dog 'Dog'?" Hawke asked, and then when a long silence followed, she conceded. "Yes. Okay, I did think about naming him Dog, at one point. But _not_ because Gamlen suggested it." 

Varric laughed, and the group set off to Darktown. They arrived without much trouble, which had Aveline on edge.

“Usually there’s more resistance in this area. Something is definitely up.”

“Maybe all the assassins are asleep. It is pretty early.” Hawke suggested.

“Killing people for a living must be hard.” Varric coincided.

“I’m sure more than one of our companions could attest to that.” Was Hawke’s reply.

“Enough!" Aveline sighed in exasperation, and Craig whined once. "It is too early in the morning for me to have to deal with the two of you. And you.” Aveline said,  evidently hinting for Craig to stay quiet as well. Hawke almost said something in reply but knew Aveline was using the tone that meant trouble, so she thought better of it.

The group entered the clinic, and found Anders cleaning up his stations.

“Morning Blondie, and…” Hawke heard the distinct sound of skipping. “Daisy, as well, I see.”

“Good morning Varric! Oh, and Hawke and Aveline! And Craig! It’s like a party.” Merrill said, bounding over and scratching Craig behind his ears lovingly.

“I wasn’t expecting you all to visit so early.” Anders offered, and Hawke couldn’t help but hear the strain in his voice, much more evident whenever in the company of Merrill.

“I was just wondering if you had any more research to share,” Hawke said, and Merrill piped up.

“I spoke to the Keeper before we left Sundermount and she said Fenris may experience lapses in memory from drawing out his lyrium, though I forgot to tell you.”

“ _Merrill…”_ Hawke sighed. Of course something like this would happen.

“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at remembering things like that. Are you mad?”

“No, not mad just…it probably would have been helpful before Fenris stormed out yesterday.”

“He stormed out?” Merrill said, and Hawke imagined her eyes widening. “I don’t think that’s a storm I’d ever like to be caught in.”

“What happened?” Anders asked, and Hawke let go of Craig’s rope when they reached a medical table, hopping up as the others shuffled their feet, gathering around. Hawke felt as if she was telling a horror story around a campfire. 

“When we got back from Sundermount, I thought it would be a good idea to try and heal again, just for a little bit. Everything was fine, and it was about an hour in when Fenris’ hands started moving, so I followed the movements as best as I could. When it became really frustrating, I severed the connection and then he just woke up and got really upset.”

“Did he hurt you?” Anders asked and Hawke shook her head.

“Of course not!” Hawke laughed, trying to ease some of the tension. She really didn’t want to paint Fenris in the wrong light, and the more she spoke of it, the more she felt that it was becoming the case. 

“You never know with him. He may snap.”

“I doubt he’d snap at me so easily, Anders, but thank you for your concern.” Hawke smiled as best as she could, and Varric spoke up.

“Have you seen him since?” he asked.

Hawke shook her head. “I’m just going to give him time, I just don’t want this to be a reoccurring thing.”

“Perhaps there’s a way to disconnect without causing memories to resurface.” Aveline suggested.

“I could look into some of the Dalish lore, just because I’m curious. Not sure if I’ll find anything though.” Merrill added, “Anders what did you find?” 

“Unfortunately nothing that would be of substance, yet. The clinic has been quite busy in the evenings. But I will keep looking.”

“See if you can find more research on the side effects of lyrium. I want to make sure that we don’t end up making my condition worse, or making Fenris suffer as well.” Hawke explained. She knew Fenris had mentioned how his markings tend to hurt when they’re touched, and Hawke wanted to make sure she wouldn’t worsen the pain if they were to keep working together. She then hopped down from the medical desk, calling for Craig who dutifully stood by her side while she felt around for the rope.

“I appreciate everyone’s help.” She smiled, but then faltered. “I really wish I wasn’t a burden, but I am certain if we work together, this will all be over soon.”

“Don’t get emotional on us now, Hawke.” Varric chuckled, “We’re all here to help. Well, except for Isabela. She’s probably drinking by now.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“Your point, Aveline?”

“Forget I said anything.”

* * *

By the time Hawke returned to the estate, it was mid afternoon. She felt along the vines that grew on the edges of the entryway before hearing a deep voice behind her.

“Hawke.” Fenris said, and she turned towards his voice. Craig barked once. “Craig,” Fenris added, with a note of discomfort.

“My my, I was about to send out a search party.” Hawke joked and Fenris scoffed.

“You need not bother with my whereabouts, I always return.” He replied with a snap. Evidently he was tense, and Hawke's first instinct for that was not always well received. A lack of social graces, she presumed. 

Hawke sighed feigning irritation, “Fenris, you are too handsome to stay angry. We should really contemplate getting along again."

“I,” Fenris stuttered for a moment, "Uh," clearly taken aback at the comment. She couldn’t tell if the comment was well received, especially since she couldn’t see his face. He hummed and hawed a moment longer before she put her hands on her hips.

“Are you coming in or not?” she smiled, trying to ease his nerves.

“Lead the way,” was his reply.

When they entered the estate, Bodahn welcomed Fenris back with enthusiasm, asking again if he would be staying for dinner.

“You can’t back out twice, Fenris. You’ll break the poor man’s heart,” Hawke whispered to her companion, and heard him snort in reply.

“Yes, thank you Bodahn. I will stay.”

“Excellent! I will begin preparations.” The dwarf merchant replied, busily moving about the house. When dinner was done and both Hawke and Fenris’ bellies were full, Bodahn seemed truly happy.

Hawke had untied the rope from Craig’s collar and let him rest by the main hall’s fireplace, before being helped into the study by Fenris.

“How about we switch spots this time? I’ll sit where you sat yesterday, and vice versa.”

            Fenris was quiet before replying. “Very well.”

Once they were seated, Hawke heard Fenris removing his gauntlets.

           “Are you certain you have the energy to do this today? We don’t have to–”

            “I made a promise to you, Hawke.” Was his firm reply.

            “Before we start: Do you…want to talk about what happened last time?” she asked, and he sighed.

            “You simply surprised me. I was not expecting to have memories brought back so easily.”

            “Did you remember something from before you received your markings?” Hawke asked and Fenris said no.

            “It was after. Around the time we had first met.” He hesitated. “You were questioning me about my master, but it was nothing of substance.”

            “So you suspect it may happen to the memories you don’t remember, then…” she trailed off and Fenris stayed quiet.

“I want to make sure this doesn’t cause you discomfort, so I will be more careful this time. I promise.” She said.

“It is fine, Hawke.”

Then, to Fenris’ surprise, Hawke laughed shortly. “Was I arguing with you in the memory, then? Did I kick your ass?”

            “Perhaps.” There was a teasing note in his voice. “Unfortunately the memory is gone, we will never know.”

            “Unbelievable” she laughed again, he could be funny if he really tried. She could practically see the smirk on his lips. “Shall we get to it then?”

“Of course.”

Fenris placed both hands, palms facing up, on his knees. When Hawke hesitated, he lifted his hands to touch her own, bringing them down gently to rest against his arms.

Hawke’s hands were cold as ice, and her fingers shocked the tender skin at his wrists. Slowly, they warmed to his temperature and he mumbled softly.

“I am bringing the lyrium forward.”

As Hawke’s gentle pull at the markings continued, Fenris tried not to nod off. He refused to close his eyes, watching their hands work together to convert the lyrium into mana.

This time, Fenris’ hands were directly touching Hawke’s, and there was something so terribly intimate about the scenario that Fenris felt himself looking away. Of course Hawke had given him propositions about their own relationship in the past. She was assertive and bold and sometimes that abrasiveness was enough to leave Fenris’ head spinning because he couldn’t tell if she was serious. But overtime, he realized she _was_ serious about her feelings for him, and although she maintained a mask of friendliness, their close encounters and that tension between them was not lost on the rest of their companions.

He watched the fire for a while, and then Hawke’s fingers twitched against his hands, so he glanced back at her face. Her eyes were closed, her brows knitting together in concentration, and then her face relaxed, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

Without warning, Hawke’s fingers wrapped into Fenris’ and then she was pulling her hands back slowly, gently, giving Fenris the time he needed to reign in the lyrium that had been pushed to the ends of his fingertips. But the contact was achingly real and Fenris found himself wishing she would stay but then, her hands were gone, and Hawke’s eyes opened.

“Was that better? Did you remember anything?” she asked, and Fenris swallowed once.

“No, there was nothing.”

“Do your markings hurt?” she asked and he shook his head before dumbly replying with a simple “no”, even though they did sting if he were to be truly honest.

Hawke smiled, a real smile that reached her brows and she sighed. “Are you lying?”

“It is nothing I cannot endure.” Fenris replied, and it was such a predictable thing for him to say that she felt sort of relieved. 

They sat quietly for what seemed like ages before she spoke again. “Can I try something?” she asked.

“What is it?”

“Could you put your hands out again?”

“They are out,” was his reply when he shifted his hands to rest the same way they had before she healed. She placed her hands on his again, and instead of feeling an insistent pulling, Fenris felt a warm push against his skin.

“Hawke, I said I’m –”

“Shh, I’m concentrating.” She teased, and he sighed as she healed the palms of his hands, her warm healing magic radiating through his body, bringing back burning memories of Tevinter, but soothing them all the same. He refused healing from Anders, only recently letting Hawke heal him of major injuries. This was just petty, and they both knew it.

But the longer she healed his hands, the warmer he felt, the more the knot in his stomach twisted and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her. Show her exactly how much her trust meant to him, but he couldn’t, he _knew_ he couldn’t, and it made him ache.

Then, her magic was finished, and he panicked when she fell onto her back, sighing. “That was _exhausting._ ” She said.

“You did not need to heal me.” He reminded her of his earlier warning and she laughed in reply. He wanted to thank her, but he didn’t know how, didn’t know how _not_ to make a fool of himself.

“Don’t be so depressing, I wanted to.”

“Can you see?”

“The back of my eyelids, but that’s about it.” Her voice was tight. “Blast it, I’m too impatient but –” she didn’t speak for a moment, too caught up in her own frustration.

Fenris sighed, leaning forward to take hold of her arms and heave her forward. She flinched as his fingers touched her arms, and he paused. “I am going to pull you forward.” He warned, and she relaxed as his hands grasped her upper arms, and used his own weight to anchor her forward to a sitting position.

When she was seated upright, he relaxed his position, letting go of her arms. “You are not stuck this way forever. It will take time but you will regain your vision, I am sure of it.”

She reached out, taking a hold of his hands.

“Wait,” she said and then she took his left hand in both of her own, running her fingers along the back of his palm.

“What are you doing?” Fenris sighed, but couldn’t help the tightness in his throat.

“I did this with mother when she found out I was blind.” Hawke smiled, and continued her exploring. “I memorized how her hand felt in mine, since I can’t see her face.” Her smile faltered and she closed her eyes. Fenris didn’t have the words to reassure her.

They sat in silence a while, Hawke gently feeling along his knuckles, splaying out his fingers and running her thumbs down to his blunt fingernails. She mapped where the lines of lyrium were on his palms, and felt the edges of where they elevated against his skin. She was so gentle with him – so gentle with his markings that Fenris feared he would start shaking. But he didn’t ask her to stop, and she didn’t cease her touch.

Hawke didn’t stop until she had burned every detail of his hands into her memory, locking it safely next to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note that I'm swamped with school work for the next couple of weeks, so updates may be a little less than usual. hope you all had a good Monday!


	6. Chapter 6

“Ow, Fenris, your gauntlet is about to stab me in the ribs.”

“Perhaps you should have worn your full armor.”

“Perhaps _you_ should invest in a padded cape!”

“I do not need a cape, Hawke.”

“If you’re going to escort me through Hightown the _least_ you could do is not shank me.” Hawke chided.

“I could let you wander through the streets aimlessly. Does that sound appealing to you?” Fenris threatened, but his tone was light, clearly meant as a joke.

“I’d find you eventually, your sunny disposition is felt everywhere in Kirkwall.” she replied, tartly. 

Fenris finally laughed at that, unable to hold in the short chuckle that escaped him. He smirked, adjusting his arm for Hawke to loop her own in.

“Perhaps I should invest in a cane for the days you’re busy nursing a hangover.” Hawke suggested and he scoffed. “I could even use my staff.”

“And while we are at it, I am sure a visit to the Gallows and a sufficient mockery of the Templars is also in order?” he replied, sounding relaxed in their banter.

As Fenris opened the door to the Hanged Man, Hawke continued her speech. “Fenris you are truly brilliant, it’s like you always know exactly what I’m thinking.”

He sidestepped, bringing her with him as she heard a drunken patron loudly stumble past them.

“There you are, Hawke! Thought you weren’t going to make it.” Hawke heard Varric greet her, as Fenris lead Hawke to the table and inched her near her chair. “And of course, Broody the sidekick, as well.”

“Miss a gathering at the Hanged Man? Who do you take me for, Varric?” Hawke joked, taking her seat, hearing Fenris inch his chair a bit closer to the table next to her. Then, she heard a distinctly familiar scrape of metal against metal, and broke into a grin.

“Aveline you can’t hide from me! Why on earth do you still wear all that armor in the Hanged Man?”

“Do you _see_ the people who walk around this tavern? If they’re not carrying knives, they break a glass and make one with the neck of the bottle.”

“Point taken. Where’s everyone else?”

“Late, as usual.” Varric smirked. “I had to convince Daisy to leave Blondie’s side. He’s staying at the clinic tonight and she wanted to help out.”

“Presumably for the best.” Fenris said, and Hawke turned her face to him, wanting him to clarify. “It is no secret that she is a walking disaster – every bottle, flask, or instrument would be broken if she were to volunteer.”

Hawke moved to defend the Dalish elf. “Now that’s just –!”

“Completely true.” He finished.

“Alright, yes it is.”

“Ooh, are the lovebirds causing a scene?” Isabela slipped into her usual spot, smirking at Fenris who simply shook his head in reply. “Is it the sex, Hawke? Don’t tell me he’s turned into a softy –”

“Isabela, where in the world have you been hiding?” Hawke changed the topic so quickly, Fenris hardly had time to come up with a snide reply. He glanced over at Aveline, whose face had turned an interesting shade of red. Maybe from embarrassment, moreso from anger (this _was_ Aveline).

“You know me, I find ways to keep myself occupied.”

Hawke laughed. “Besides temporary pleasures.”

“You’re no fun.” Isabela pouted, but looked over Hawke’s face. Fenris was surprised to see her eyebrows knit together, an expression very close to…guilt?

“So this wasn’t a joke. You really can’t see a damn thing, can you?”

“As much as I’d like to tell you otherwise, it’s true. Though I could always tell you to get your breasts off the table – for old times’ sake.”

Isabela snorted, sitting back and waving her hand to Norah for a drink. “That’s the last time I worry about you.”

Fenris wasn’t certain Isabela spoke the entire truth. He felt that he knew her well enough to tell when she was lying, and to him it seemed like this was one of those times. The pirate didn’t like getting emotional, much like himself.

“So, since I can’t see anything, I figured I would sit tonight out. You know, listen for cheering if someone wins, perhaps a little cussing when someone loses.” Hawke explained, no hard edge in her voice.

Varric smirked, though Fenris could see behind it, the tight set of his jaw, the way he shuffled his cards sloppily. Distracted.

Isabela simply shifted in her chair, while Aveline did the same, both of them not replying for fear of saying the wrong thing.

“Surely you already know who will be swearing.” Fenris said, and Hawke grinned.

“A Hawke never reveals their secrets.” She replied, and put a finger to her lips. Varric laughed.

“Alright, you and me Broody.” He said. Fenris saw the dwarf glance at the elf’s coin purse. He dealt the cards.

 

 

At some point in the evening, Merrill had made her way to the Hanged Man to join the others.

The more Varric won, the more the others were adamant that they play against each other and _not_ the dwarf. Varric had acted innocent of course, and Hawke had called him out on it. She had been keeping score of how many times everyone else in their party had started cussing – Fenris in first place, Isabela and Aveline tied for second – and how many times the card dealer had sworn throughout the night – none.

Varric begrudgingly handed the cards to Isabela, who dealt equally as fast, but with less of a tendency to cheat and not get caught. The pirate claimed she found it offensive that everyone always thought she was lying, but it was clear to anyone she was sour because she wasn’t winning.

“Clearly you are the first to forget that you claim to be a ‘pirate’…and what do pirates do, Isabela?” Hawke asked.

“Sail the seas.” She replied, quicker than a heartbeat.

“They _steal,_ Isabela.” Varric took a drink.

“No that’s a thief. I’m not a thief.”

“Give me a break.” Aveline folded her arms over her chest. "You're being serious?" the guard captain asked, not expecting a reply.

Hawke snorted at that, leaning back and letting out a real laugh.

“Pirates are the thieves of the sea.” Fenris said, between Hawke’s fits of laughter. He began shuffling the cards.

“One way for you to find out,” Isabela winked and Fenris simply shook his head in reply, biting back a smirk

“No matter. I’m not returning your coin. You still lost that last round.” he said, flipping the deck of cards and folding them together in every which way, too fast to track.

“Spoilsport.”

            “Ooh, can I play the next round?” Merrill chirped, and Isabela smiled at her. Regardless of if Isabela had just been called out for lying, the Dalish elf would still want to play.

            “Sure thing, Kitten.”

As the night wore on, Hawke began to yawn. Aveline had left a bit after Merrill arrived, the others teasing her of having a bedtime. She had disagreed, and said she was the only reasonable one out of all of them.

It was quiet in the Hanged Man at this time of day, completely opposite of its usual noise. Hawke could hear the gentle flicking of cards as they were tossed around and flipped. The crackling of embers in the fireplace, the sound of stout mugs being tapped on the tables…and her friends laughing and playing Wicked Grace until the early hours of the morning.

Hawke yawned again.

“Perhaps we should take our leave.” Fenris suggested, and Hawke nodded in agreement. They got up to leave the table, when Isabela spoke up.

“If you need to go anywhere tomorrow, I’ll be happy to tag along.” She whispered, for fear of waking up Merrill who had fallen asleep an hour earlier.

“Sounds good,” Hawke replied, giving her and Varric a wave, before being guided out of the Hanged Man by Fenris.

When Fenris opened the door, the cool night air immediately greeted them. Hawke tensed up, gripping Fenris’ arm tighter.

“Maker’s fat ass, it’s freezing!” she said, and heard Fenris let out a sigh of a laugh. They walked through Hightown in silence for a while.

“It’s so strange for Kirkwall to be this quiet.” Hawke mumbled, walking up the stairs carefully.

“It is almost four in the morning.” Fenris replied, and Hawke groaned.

“We can’t do anything tomorrow – or today, I suppose. I’m exhausted, I won’t be up until noon at least.”

They reached Hawke’s estate, and Fenris stopped. He let go of her arm, but she held onto his wrist. “When would you like me to visit? For your eyes?”

“Oh! How about mid afternoon? Are we here already?” she asked, not letting go of him, somehow holding his hand now.

“Yes. Will you be awake?” he asked, trying to swallow his nerves.

Hawke laughed. “I’ll try to be.”

There was an awkward pause when Fenris didn’t reply. Perhaps he was smiling, Hawke wasn’t sure. She didn’t want him to go.

“You can—”

“I should—”

They both spoke at the same time, and then Hawke laughed in embarrassment. “Go ahead.”

“I should take my leave.”

“Ah, of course. Good night, Fenris.” She said, and there was another pause.

“Perhaps if you let go,” Fenris cleared his throat. “Of my arm.” He tried to avoid making her embarrassed, perhaps she didn’t know it was his hand – but she was no fool. It was too obvious.

“Oh!” she said, sounding breathless and unaware. She drew her hand back, and her cheeks grew red. “Sorry, it’s early. Too early to function properly. You know how it is.” She was shaking.

Fenris couldn’t help but draw closer, and before he gave himself a chance to regret it, he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, his eyelashes brushing her face. He lingered for a moment, pulling back when Hawke drew in a stuttering breath.

“Sleep well.” He managed to say, his throat tightening, and then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short!!! i'm already working on the next chapter. happy holidays!


	7. Chapter 7

Fenris woke with dread in his heart. The memory of the previous night flooded his mind and he groaned. He had inevitably crossed a line, and hadn’t even remained long enough to hear a proper reply from Hawke.

He grumbled, scrubbing his face with his hands in irritation. Sitting up, he glanced around the mansion. He contemplated venturing over to her estate -- telling her how he felt. Fenris knew himself better than anybody, but knew he would never do such a thing. He could not be so direct in his feelings for Hawke. He also didn’t want to get there and find out that she was cross with him, let alone have to face it. When he stood up, he grabbed his armour and changed out of his thinner nightwear. Fenris thought over the options in his mind.

There were two basic choices: one would be to avoid Hawke until he felt it safe enough for her not to bring it up. He rejected this idea fairly quickly, because he promised Hawke to meet for her eyes. She would eventually seek him out, he _knew_ her. Although he would never speak of it, he would also feel terribly guilty of leaving her alone for that long. Not to mention how _nervous_ it would make him. Who knows what kind of trouble she could get into without him being there to supervise?

The second option made him groan again (for possibly the fifth time that morning): go see Hawke regardless of what transpired the night before. Honestly, he didn’t have to talk about it, though the topic would be brought up eventually. This _was_ Hawke. Whether or not intentional, Hawke was Kirkwall’s problem solver. There was no way she wouldn’t say something, and he knew that.

Fenris knew it was the right thing to do. Hawke deserved an explanation; and he knew she would give him the time to discuss it. He wouldn’t feel right if they didn’t sort it out.

Something twisted at the pit of his stomach. It was something buried deeply between his ribs, a fear that clawed at him ever since he allowed her close enough to call ‘friend’. It was rooted into his heart from his time as a slave.

Danarius would speak to him from his throne, and Fenris would keep his head low, listening to the magister’s words without question.

Doing as his master said because _that was his purpose._

The very idea that he could be wanted was beyond his comprehension because it was something he was never allowed. The only reason he was kept around was because he was useful.

And then…

 _“If those were slavers, then I’m glad I helped.”_ Hawke said, upon meeting him. She smiled at Fenris: genuine, happy, _free –_ and that is what he wanted more than anything.

He found his resolve. Concealed under years of grief was something he had been looking for, and he found it in Hawke.

It was hope.

She allowed him to hope.

* * *

 “Thank you for breakfast Bodahn,” Hawke put her dishes in the sink after the dwarf navigated her arms in the proper direction. She nearly scared the man to death when she presumed the sink was in the middle of the kitchen.

“Of course, messere. Would you like to go to the study?”

“I’ll get Craig to lead the way, you don’t need to worry about me” she reassured him, hoping Bodahn would sit down and catch his breath – perhaps take a nap. It would do the poor man some good.

Craig came bounding into the kitchen upon hearing his name called. Hawke put her hand on his back, petting him as he brought her into the study. After finding the armrest of her chair, she pushed it away from the fireplace, taking a seat on the carpet instead.

Hawke waited.

She sighed, laying flat on her back, then rolled on her side. Was it normal to think about a kiss this much? Perhaps she was looking too deeply into it. Due to circumstance, Hawke and Fenris had been forced to become more physical. She relied on him for healing, and he for…

Well, she didn’t quite know honestly. She promised she would help kill Danarius, but it wasn’t much of a favor. Killing Fenris’ former master seemed like common sense. It infuriated her to think that not everyone felt the same.

Hawke sat up. She longed for her vision, wishing she could have seen Fenris’ expression last night. If she were completely honest with herself, she wouldn’t mind another opportunity. The more time they spent together, the less predictable he became. It was driving her mad. She needed to know what he was thinking! She needed –

Just as she was about to call out to Bodahn, a knock came at the door of the study.

“Messere, one of your companions is here to see you. It’s the gentleman with the uh, spikes.”

“Well that’s rather convenient.” She said, “Let him in,”

She heard Bodahn’s footsteps recede, and then the familiar sound of Fenris’ feet padding on the floor.

He watched her a moment, and waited for her to say something – anything.

            “Are you drooling?”

He blinked, wondering if he heard her correctly. “Sorry?”

            “Oh, you’re awake. I thought you slept-walk all the way here. I was almost impressed.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, taking a seat in front of the fireplace. “I think Bodahn would have said something upon seeing my eyes closed.”

            “And snoring!”

            “I do not snore.”

            “You don’t know that, you’re asleep when you snore.”

            “I’m sure the others would have told me on one of our journeys to Sundermount.”

            “Maybe they think you’re just groaning. Or brooding.”

            “I think this conversation is over.”

            “Fine, fine. Shall we begin?” she asked, holding her hands out.

He watched her a moment, waiting. Hawke rested her hands in her own lap, and tilted her head to the left. She faced him directly, despite her inability to see his face.

“Perhaps…we could discuss something else first.” She said. “It’s up to you, Fenris.”

“I…wish to apologize.” He hesitated. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I should not have left so quickly, it was unfair.”

Hawke shook her head in reply. “You didn’t.”

“I –” Fenris blinked. “I do not understand.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” She clarified. “To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”

Fenris took a moment to process what Hawke was suggesting. “I…did not think you would want to pursue anything more.”

“You’re surprised.” She posed it, not as a question, but as a statement.

“I am a runaway slave, Hawke. An elf, at that. I linger in a mansion I do not even own. I am far from secure by any stretch of the word. How could I believe that these things do not trouble you?”

Hawke shook her head, looking down and gathering her thoughts. “I will not try to put words to your past. What you need to know is that I like you for _you,_ Fenris. Not for what you have suffered, and not for what you think you deserve because of _what_ you are.” She put her hands out, as an offering. “You are greater than what they made you believe you were. Your friendship has made me immeasurably happy, and I trust you.”

He didn’t know what to say. She wanted him? Despite everything, she held her arms open for him? His chest felt light. Fenris reached forward and put his hands in hers.

“Let us heal your eyes.” He offered, and she nodded, smiling. Closing her eyes, Hawke began drawing the lyrium from his hands. He felt her drawing the lyrium that he pushed out of his hands, and soon they sat in comfortable silence.

* * *

 

            Hawke heard a soft knock come from the door to the study again. Shifting her hands, she let her fingers linger on Fenris’ palms. He shifted slightly, similarly to their previous time, and then the lyrium dissolved back into his markings.

“A moment, Bodahn.” Hawke called gently. She spoke softer to Fenris. “Was that alright?”

            “Of course.”

            Hawke smiled, and then called Bodahn to enter. Fenris watched Bodahn as he inched his feet into the doorframe.

            “Messere, Gamlen is here to see you.” The dwarf explained, and then they heard louder footsteps coming towards them.

            “Hawke! There you are.” he said, sounding flustered. With Fenris’ help, Hawke stood up from the carpet and walked into the main hall. Gamlen gave Fenris a strange look before being interrupted by Hawke.

            “Uncle Gamlen? This is a surprise.” Her eyebrows knit together, seemingly unimpressed by the intrusion, or perhaps it was just Fenris’ imagination.

            “Where is your mother? Is she feeling alright?” Gamlen asked in a hurry.

            “The last time I spoke to her, she was fine.” Hawke paused, hearing the tension in her uncle’s voice. “Why are you so upset?”

            “You know Leandra visits me every week, but I haven’t seen her. Is she here?”

            Bodahn intercepted then. “No, Gamlen, we haven’t seen her all day.” He brought his hand up to his beard and stroked it in thought. “Perhaps she is with her suitor?”

            “Suitor?” Hawke and Gamlen said at the same time. Fenris raised an eyebrow.

            “Well, she received those lilies this morning.” Bodahn explained, and pointed to a vase with a bouquet of white flowers sitting on the mantel of the fireplace.

            White lilies…

            Fenris glanced over at Hawke, whose complexion had gone ghost white.

            “The killer…it’s the killer in Kirkwall. He murdered several women already, he always sends them white lilies before they disappear.”

            “Hawke…” Fenris’ voice is measured.

            “We have to search for my mother. Fenris, could you help me get my armor? Bodahn, contact Varric for me. And Aveline too, see if she knows anything.”

            “Right away, messere.” Bodahn was off in a flash.

            “I’ll go back to Lowtown and see if she just took a wrong turn somewhere.” Gamlen said, and shook his head. “Maker help us…if anything happened to her…”

            When Gamlen left the estate, Hawke took Fenris’ arm that lead her upstairs and helped her with her armor. Thankfully, she was already changed into her thinner clothing normally worn under the heavier metal pieces. “Do you have your sword with you?” she asked.

“Always.”

“Hand me my staff.”

“Hawke, you cannot see.” Fenris reasoned but Hawke shook her head.

“Even just to intimidate them, Fenris, I need my staff if we’re going into Lowtown.” She held her hands out to him. The same position she had earlier, when she accepted him. He had to believe her.

            Although it was a long pause, Fenris reached for her staff eventually. He put it in her grip and placed his hands on top of her own.

            “Do not run into battle without me.” He said, uselessly. No matter what he did, she was going to be in the middle of a fight – and he knew she would never let him find Leandra without her. All he could do was hope she didn’t die. Not now. Preferably not ever.

            “Let’s go.” She offered her hand after hitching her staff onto her back. He retrieved his gauntlets from the study and they were off.

* * *

 

            Hawke’s other senses had improved since losing her sight. After speaking with a boy about Leandra’s initial disappearance, the group followed Hawke (and Fenris) into the Foundry District. Though Fenris had seen the trail of blood, Hawke had _smelled_ it, and it made her all the more panicked.

            “She’s with him. Mother is with the killer.” She spoke, the anxiety clear in her voice. Varric and Aveline made no comment as to why the two ran hand in hand, thankfully.

            “Seems like someone forgot to hide the entrance to his hideout.” Varric offered when they reached the end of the blood trail, pointing to a trapdoor. Aveline stepped forward, opening the door and closing it after everyone was below.

            “We’ve got shades up ahead.” Varric said to the others, and Hawke let go of Fenris’ hand.

            “Hawke, stay here. _”_ Fenris squeezed her arm, his voice deeper than before – trying to push some sort of authority. Aveline was already unsheathing her sword, bashing her shield into a nearby shade.

            “Rage demon, behind you!” Varric called to Aveline, When Fenris turned around, Hawke was on the field.

            “ _Hawke!”_ Fenris growled at her, but she didn’t listen.

            “Do your worst!” she yelled, hitting a shade with the end of her staff. Fenris rushed over to her side, a rush of messy Tevinter profanities following him.

            “ _Venhedis,_ I told you to stay out of the fight, Hawke!” Fenris yelled over the sound of Aveline’s battle cry.

            The rage demon moved towards Hawke, while Aveline was busy with another shade. Fenris became overwhelmed with brief memories of the fight with Gascard.

            “Hawke!” Aveline yelled.

            “Hawke!” Varric joined in.

            “ _Hawke!”_ Fenris said at last, his voice rough – he was _seething._ He cut down the last shade.

            “I hear you!” Hawke said, turning around and summoning a wall of ice, freezing the rage demon behind her, and shattering it around her companions.

            Bits of the demon pelted the front of Fenris’ armor, as he brought his arm up to shield his eyes.

            It was silent before he swore again. “Why do you not listen when I tell you to stay out of it?” he demanded, and she turned around.

            “I got it, didn’t I?” she asked, and he shook his head.

            “That is not the point!” he put his sword away and growled.

            “I knew where everyone was, and I didn’t hit anyone.”

            “Yeah because we were all screaming at you to get away from the giant rage monster.” Varric offered, and Fenris was relieved to see the others were agreeing with him.

            “We will get to the bottom of this, but you should be careful, Hawke.” Aveline sheathed her sword, hooking her shield on her back.

“I refuse to be useless.” Hawke replied, and it took everything in his power not to ignite the lyrium in his veins.

“You are more useless trying to battle than you are standing around!” He said, and saw Hawke draw her lips into a thin line. She held her breath, and angled her face away from him.

“Let’s move on.” She said, and begrudgingly held out her hand to him. Fenris sighed heavily and took it, moving forward.

The next battle, Hawke stood back, a sour expression on her face. Fenris didn’t like either situation, but it was safer for everyone if she stayed out of the way. She was still blind, and though she was healing, there was nothing she could do that wasn’t pure luck. Fenris wouldn’t take that chance.

After putting their weapons away, Aveline stepped towards what looked to be a shrine.

“This painting looks like Leandra.” The guard captain stated, and Hawke closed her eyes.     

“There are some books on necromancy here,” Varric added, shuffling through old novels with broken spines. Pages were scattered on the floor, and made the ground crunch where they stepped.

“We need to find her now.” Hawke’s voice was tight, and Fenris took it upon himself to take her hand, walking through another hallway, and down another staircase.       

A man around Leandra’s age was pacing around a large chair, and Fenris let go of Hawke's hand when the man glanced up at the group.

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” the man spoke, “Leandra was sure you would.”

He walked around the chair, Hawke’s head twitched slightly, listening to the gravel beneath the man’s feet.

“Your mother is serving a greater purpose.” He said, and Fenris could see the whites of his eyes.

“Blah blah, you’re insane, I get it.” Hawke spat. “Where is my mother.”

There was a long silence as the man rounded the chair again. “I pieced her together from memory. I took what I needed.”

Hawke clenched her fists.

“Your mother had her beautiful face.”

            And then Fenris saw the figure who had been sitting in the chair finally stand up. When she turned, a grotesque expression stared back at him. It was Leandra’s head on another woman’s body.

            “We will never be parted again.”

            Hawke seemed to have understood what he meant, because she screamed in reply.

“You _monster!”_ Reaching for her staff, Hawke stepped back. The ground shifted behind her companions.

            “Hawke, this way!” Fenris gripped her arm, yanking her towards him as corpses grew from the dirt.

            Aveline cut down the corpses as they rose up while Fenris tried to move Hawke a safer distance, but it was no use. Quentin summoned too many demons to count, and they were surrounded.

            Fenris tried to push Hawke out of the way, but a rage demon came after them both.

            “Fenris, watch it!” Aveline warned, trying to smash corpses out of the way.

            “Let me!” Hawke yelled, and Fenris refused vehemently.

            “ _No_!”

            “You’ll _die_ , now duck!” she yelled and Fenris had no choice, because Hawke was swinging her staff before he had a chance to cuss again. She froze the rage demon behind him and he cut it down before it could thaw.

            “You will hit one of us!” Fenris tried to reason as he swung at another shade.   

            “Then keep yelling at me, so I know where you are!” Hawke replied, her jaw tight as she tried to maneuver without sight. He had no choice, they were overwhelmed.

“Do not die.” He said, his voice threateningly low.

The threat of her heart in her throat made her practically yell at him. “Go!” 

            “Desire demon!” Varric called out.  

            “I’m right behind you, Hawke!” Aveline warned, killing the last corpse before moving onto another desire demon. Quentin kept his barrier up, and Fenris swore again.

            Aveline swung her sword at the last desire demon, cutting it in half. Fenris saw Aveline turn to him, and then noticed something behind him.

            “Hawke!” Aveline yelled and Fenris turned to see Hawke fighting with an abomination.

Hawke was cutting into the abomination with her staff, but it soon overpowered her and grabbed her by the throat, slamming her into the ground. She cried out in pain, but managed to freeze it long enough to free herself from its grip. She almost killed it when Fenris reached her.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly, and she nodded, wiping the blood that was dripping out of her nose. 

            “His barrier is down! Aveline!” Varric called, and shot a few arrows at the last shades that were protecting him. Fenris watched as Aveline shot forward, stabbing Quentin in the abdomen and letting him drop to the floor.

            Hawke held her nose for a moment as the others tried to reorganize themselves. Hearing the soft shuffling of footsteps, she turned and felt a weight press forward into her arms.

            “My darling,” Hawke heard the figure say, and Hawke dropped to her knees, cradling the strange body in her arms.

            “Mother,” she whispered, and brought her hand up to touch her face. Her fingers made contact with the stitches along Leandra’s neck, and Hawke choked. If she could see, maybe she could figure out how much damage there was. Maybe there was hope. Maybe her mother could still live.

            But she could see nothing.

            “I knew you would come.” Her mother spoke, and Hawke closed her eyes.

            “Y-you know me,” Hawke tried to reply, her voice too tight. She couldn’t say anything more. Her mother was already gone.

            “I love you.” Leandra said, and Hawke could hear the smile in her voice. She shook her head as her mother continued. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for setting me free.”

            And then the body that both was and wasn’t her mothers went still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this is a lot of stuff that happens in 'All That Remains' though the difference being that Hawke is blind, and the relationship between Fenris and Hawke is different. I'm hoping to post another chapter in the next few days, I think I know where I want this to go now!  
> Feel free to comment, I would love to hear feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

Hawke didn’t speak for the longest time. It was odd to see their leader, the Champion, silent. To Fenris’ surprise, no one said anything. They dropped Hawke off at her estate, Fenris gently letting go of her arm.

When he returned to the mansion, he still felt in shock. He had expected Varric to give some sort of advice, or Aveline to comfort her – anything to interrupt the silence they knew he could not breach. But they simply went their own ways, indicating that they would be at their posts should Hawke need anything.

Perhaps it was on purpose. Everyone was so used to being sought out for missions that they reverted back to that state because Hawke was always the one to reach out for them. He supposed it wasn’t his place, but he couldn’t wait idly by as Hawke suffered alone. So he grabbed a bottle of wine from the cellar and made his way back to her estate.

Fenris didn’t know exactly what he was going to say. He had no family to speak of, he couldn’t possibly empathize with her pain. When Bodahn let him inside and he walked up to her room, all he knew is that she shouldn’t feel alone.

“Hawke,” he called tentatively, watching her face turn only slightly to the sound of his voice. She didn’t speak, and so he continued. “I…truthfully do not know what to say, but I am here.”

Hawke lifted her knees up to her chest and sighed. “You could try to say anything, and I’m sure it would make me feel better.”

Fenris took this as permission to enter, and so he walked in, placing the bottle of wine on the floor near the end of the bed. “They say…death is only a journey.” Fenris cringed at the way his words came out. She glanced over at him and he cringed more.

He was surprised to hear a lilt of a chuckle. “You make it sound like a statement but it only opens up to more questions. Where will the journey take her?”

“I do not know.” Fenris said, taking a seat on the bed next to her. Hawke sighed, defeated. As was Fenris, for comfort was not his strong suit. “I brought wine.” He offered.

“Maker, now you’re talking.” 

Fenris opened the bottle and offered it to her, which she took a swig from without any hesitation. The evening passed in silence, neither of them daring to say anything more. They had made their way to the rug in front of the fireplace, and Bodahn had prepared a tray of cheeses, grapes, and bread to ease some of the sting still left from Leandra’s death.

“Thank you for visiting Fenris.” Hawke spoke finally, after the food had been reduced to crumbs and the bottle of wine was emptied. “Uncle Gamlen was here when I came home. He is not easy to speak with, even on the best of days.”

“Was he upset?” Fenris asked. It was a pointless question, but he wanted to hear her speak.

“He was rightfully furious,” Hawke closed her eyes. “He was puzzled at my reaction, actually.”

“You do not seem overly distressed.” Fenris offered and Hawke brushed her bangs from her face.

“It just doesn’t feel real, I suppose. I didn’t see mother’s body, I didn’t see her die. It hasn’t sunk in.”

“That is understandable.”

“I don’t think she would have wanted me to see her like that. You saw the stitches on her neck, I felt them myself.”

“I saw.”

“It’s just strange. She said her goodbyes, and yet…” Hawke was rambling, it was clear to both of them. The grief was apparent now.

“Hawke?” Fenris asked after a moment. He inched closer to her, and when she lifted her head, he saw the tears standing in her eyes.

“Her death is a great injustice. She did nothing wrong, and yet she suffered a terrible fate.”

“She is not in pain.” He said, watching her cheeks stain red.

“I would replace her…” Hawke began and Fenris touched her arm, and then her hand.

“She would not want it.” Fenris did not know what Leandra would want, but he tried to comfort Hawke with what he believed to be the truth.

Hawke did not sob, or hiccup, or make any sort of fuss when she cried. It was a silent thing, broken only by the slight catch in her lungs that made her entire frame jump once. Fenris heard her groan in pain, in response. He watched her hand instinctively come up to her side, and he realized with great horror that she was probably still wounded from the earlier fight.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, and Hawke shook her head.

“ _Hawke.”_ He said, and she sighed, wiping her eyes.

“I healed myself, I just can’t see the wound.”

Fenris gave up any sort of sympathy he held for her and replaced it with several curses in Tevene. “You stubborn…let me see your wounds.”

“No need!” she replied too quickly, and he cursed again.

“Either I will drag you to the apostate’s clinic or you will let me patch your wounds.” Fenris said, his voice menacing despite the worry he held for her.

Hawke relented dramatically, rolling her eyes before tugging at the collar of her shirt. Fenris watched the pale skin of her collarbone be revealed, and met with angry, red claw marks from when she had been grabbed by the abomination.

“Where is your dressings kit? And what about your side? You were holding it earlier.”

“Top drawer in the writing desk. It was a broken rib.”

“A bro—” he began, disbelief in his tone, standing up to locate the first aid materials.

“ _Was.”_ Hawke emphasized. “I mended the bone, I’m simply bruised now.”

“Ridiculous.” Fenris grumbled to himself, calling to Bodahn for a basin of hot water. When everything was set out, Fenris took off his gauntlets and went to work.

He was not particularly familiar with tending to someone else’s wounds. Fenris found the situation more frequent in Hawke’s company, especially since she was so prone to being thrown around by enemies.

“I cannot believe you did not go to the clinic.” He said as he wiped away the excess blood at her collarbone and shoulder.

“Anders has more important patients to tend to. Besides, I healed my neck and ribs with no trouble.”

“But completely disregarded the rest of the wound. What an intelligent method of healing!” Fenris tried to keep the anger in his words and not in the tightening of his muscles as he tried to tend to her wounds. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ have only a limited amount of mana.”

“You could have asked.” Fenris said, clearly talking about the lyrium tattoos.

“I would rather not take advantage of your hospitality." she joked, and then her voice changed to something softer. "Or hurt you."

“I will not die so easily.” He replied, and Hawke said nothing in response.

Once Fenris had finished patching her collarbone, he pulled her shirt back over her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her neck once.

“It is done.” He announced.

“Thank you.” Hawke said, and then went quiet as she listened to Fenris pack away her dressings kit.

It was a long relaxed pause before Hawke spoke up again. “Will you train with me?” she asked, and he went still. The tension returned. 

“Excuse me?” he turned to look at her, and Fenris was met with a determined set to her brow. 

“I can’t see, but I don’t want to be a liability. Train me.” 

“You and I fight very differently.” he made a last attempt to dissuade her, but knew that her stubbornness had no limits. 

“You are agile, you can dodge. If I’m such a burden on the battlefield, I wish to change that. Please, Fenris.”

Fenris squeezed the bridge of his nose, and cussed in Tevene before conceding. “Yes, I will teach you. It will not be easy.”

Hawke smiled, and thanked him. “You’ve been swearing an awful lot, lately.”

“You’ve been inspiring me.” Fenris said, flatly, and Hawke laughed. 

* * *

Fenris was a lot of things, but he most certainly was not a liar. He was honest with his words, smoothing out the brutal truth with his deep voice. He articulated his instructions with precision, and worked with Hawke for several weeks on her maneuvering across the battlefield.

“Your footing is too stiff, loosen up.” He said, walking around Hawke in the main hall. They had pushed all the furniture up against the walls, and moved Bodahn’s wares to the library while they sparred. Both of them were holding wooden sticks to mimic their weapons.

“My footing _is_ loose. If it’s any looser, I’ll be wobbling around the battlefield like a wet noodle.” Hawke replied, holding the stick in front of her.

“That is not what I meant. Now concentrate on the sounds. Can you hear anything?”

“I can hear the undertone of your instructions, and they say ‘I am going to strangle you’”

“I am nearing that point.” He warned, and Hawke grinned.

“Fine, fine. I’m ready.”

They stopped their banter for a moment, as Fenris moved around her. Hawke waited and listened to the slight brush of his feet against the floor. She twisted the stick in her hand and pointed it to where he stepped.

“Good.” He said, and neared her. “Now block.”

Hawke instinctively held out her own training stick as Fenris swung at it with his own. She remained completely silent, listening to the slight catch of the wooden sword as it whipped in the air around them.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain at her heels, and jumped away from it, moving from foot to foot as he instructed. Her agility was much better than when they had started, Hawke could still remember the amount of bruises she was left with within the first week.

“You’re nearing the wall, Hawke.” Fenris said, and she hopped forward, listening to him humming, and the scrape of his feet against the floor when he went silent. She lunged forward, her sword crashing down onto his, and then swung at his side, the crack of the wood vibrating into her arms and up to her jaw. She felt her ears rattle once, blocking another attack she felt coming at her left, but she was met with air, fumbling to the floor.

“Gah!”

“You hit my sword too hard and then panicked.” Fenris said, and Hawke groaned, resting her makeshift staff on the floor.

“Can we stop here? I won’t have enough energy to heal my eyes if we continue.”

“Of course.” He said, and took a seat in front of her. Hawke caught her breath and sat up, putting her hands out and smiling when she felt his hands already waiting.

They had done this so many times that the exchange was practically automatic. Fenris would lead the lyrium out to his palms and Hawke would gently take it and turn it to mana. The two of them became very aware when the other was done; Hawke was able to feel the slight shift in lyrium when Fenris was growing tired, and Fenris could see Hawke’s eyebrows twitch when she reached her mana capacity.

“How long have we been doing this?” he asked softly as she continued to tug at the lyrium in his veins.

“Almost two months, I’d say.” Hawke spoke slowly.

Two months since he had kissed her.

They both severed their connections, in tandem. “And still nothing.” Fenris said, the dual meaning only apparent to him.

“I don’t know how to explain it, exactly, but I feel healthier. Perhaps we should visit Marethari.”

“The Keeper?”

“Yes, maybe she can give us an estimate, and then I can finally stop sucking the life out of you.” Hawke laughed.

Fenris felt his stomach clench for some odd reason, feeling discomfort at the idea of ending their healing sessions. He had become used to having a schedule, he had become used to always being around Hawke. Of course this wouldn’t end their friendship, but it would certainly end a level of intimacy that Fenris had actually come to crave.

“I…do not dislike it.” Fenris said, and Hawke lifted her head in his direction. She didn’t reply, and for a moment, Fenris regretted saying anything at all.

“Right.” Hawke said finally, and brought her hands in to rest on her lap. “You remember what I said?” she asked, and Fenris blinked.

“You will have to be more specific.” Fenris tried for another joke. "You say a lot of things."

She laughed, breathless, “I mean about the kiss, Fenris.” She gave him a crooked smile, but it faltered and she scratched the back of her neck. “By the Maker, you certainly know how to fray my nerves.”

Fenris’ throat was tight when he replied. “Apologies.”

“We spend so much time together, I’m surprised you don’t know how to read my mind yet.”

“I’m working on it.” Was his reply, and he smiled because she was laughing. Both of them were ridiculous, unable to let each other go, unable to take the last step and close the space between them.

Hawke tilted her head to look up at him, an invitation, and he brushed her hair from her face, touching her cheek. Finally, _finally,_ he leaned forward and closed his mouth over hers. It was a gentle thing, something so fragile that Fenris was terrified of breaking it. Hawke sighed, the kiss relieving something long unresolved between them. When he pulled away, she kissed the corner of his mouth again, and he leaned into it, and then the second one, and then the third. The fourth is something more.

They finally break away from each other, and she is smiling, and he can feel the hint of a smile playing on his own mouth but he has nothing to say, so he takes her hand in a silent promise instead.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Despite all the impulsive things Hawke had done, she considered herself a patient person. She grew up fishing with her father by the lake, and waited hours upon hours before catching anything remotely worthy of putting at the dinner table. She constantly re-read spell books to boost their effectiveness in battle. She dabbled in alchemy and made her own potions (although the only person who agreed to drink the foul-tasting stuff was Fenris). She managed to have all her friends actually get along and not just tolerate each oth—okay that’s a lie. But they did get along better than when they first began working together, and that was a success in itself.  

However, after a total of four months with no change in her eyesight, Hawke was absolutely, undeniably, without a doubt _done with waiting._ She had things to do! Places to visit! People to see (literally)! So when Fenris came to visit for their morning healing, she stomped towards the door in full armor and dragged him out the door with her.

“Hawke? Where are we –”

“We’re going to Sundermount right now!”

“Right now?”

“ _Right now!”_ She kept walking forward until she heard him yell after her.

“Stairs!”

She froze mid-step, and then begrudgingly turned to face him. “Please come with me before I lose my mind.”

Fenris chuckled as he walked towards her. Both of them reached for each other unthinkingly, heading out to fetch the rest of their companions.

The dwarf was the first.

“So, Sundermount?” Varric clarified, wiping a small oil stain off one of Bianca’s hinges.

“Well, you know, I haven’t been there in a while. I figure I’m overdue for my monthly slap from the Dalish.” Hawke heard Fenris let out a snort in reply. They stood outside the Hanged Man while Varric made sure Bianca was working properly.

“Oh, you mean their designated Shemlen slapper? I’ve always been a big fan.” Varric continued.

“No no, he’s on vacation. I was thinking of getting the collective Dalish slap. You know, maybe 10 or 15 Dalish could do it.”

“Are you planning a party with the Dalish, lethallan?” Merrill spoke as she walked up to the group. “It’s no good to only invite 10 or 15, you’ll have to invite them all. But you have a big house so I think it’ll be alright.”

“Merrill! We were about to go get you, glad you stopped by.” Hawke replied, not missing a beat despite Merrill’s sudden appearance and interruption.

“How wonderful! I’d love to tag along. I love trips. Um, where are we going?”

* * *

 

When the group reached the outskirts of Kirkwall, Hawke felt Fenris hesitate.

“Something is wrong.” Fenris murmured to the others.

“Yep, you’ve got that right. About 30 cases of Wrong right here.” Varric replied, Hawke hearing the familiar tinkering of Bianca being readied for battle.

“What’s going on?” Hawke asked Fenris, but he was rigid next to her.

“You are in possession of stolen property!” came a voice atop a small incline. Hawke knew where the man was standing, she had passed the small ledge countless times before she was blinded.

“Give us the slave now or suffer the consequences!” he continued, and Hawke laughed despite herself. Fenris’ sneer was evident, even if she couldn’t see it. At this point, their arms were no longer joined, and she could hear the strain of leather as he reached for the sword on his back.

“You always make a habit of being this annoying? There aren’t any slaves amongst my party.” She warned, and put her hand on her staff. 

“The white-haired elf is a wanted man in Tevinter!”

“Oh now _this_ will be fun.” She smiled, pulling her staff out and listening to the clanking of metal around her. Hawke felt the shift of her companions’ feet, could hear their heartbeats thrumming. “Merrill, now!”

The earth trembled beneath them, stalagmites rising from the ground and killing the slavers where they stood. Hawke summoned lightning at her fingertips, waiting for her companions to fall into formation before striking down ones she didn’t recognize. Varric called out endearments to his crossbow on Hawke’s left, and Merrill crushed enemies mercilessly with her magic on her right.

And Fenris –

Hawke didn’t even have to check for him.

His lyrium was tangible even from far away. It was like second nature to her, connected from their bond. They shared it every day to heal, to see. She wasn’t blind, not really. He _was_ her eyes.

Hawke could hear the last slaver groaning close by, but Fenris reached him first. A sob left the man’s mouth before Fenris’ voice came out harsh and menacing. “Where is he.” He demanded, and Hawke could hear numerous thuds when the slaver didn’t reply.

“It wasn’t a man, I swear!” the slaver sobbed and Fenris only snarled, beating him further. “H-Hadriana was the one who—she’s in the caves to the North.”

“Are you alright?” Merrill asked Hawke, and she nodded, allowing Merrill to loop her arm through in a comforting gesture.

“I-I can take you there! To the Holding Caves!” Hawke heard him beg, and then there was a pause before Fenris replied.

“That won’t be necessary. I know where they are.” And then she heard a snap. The slaver’s neck, presumably. Fenris had always been efficient.

“Hadriana…” Fenris seethed, the long simmering fury boiling to the surface.

“What are the holding caves?” Hawke asked, and she listened to Fenris pace back and forth before coming to a halt in front of her. Merrill squeezed Hawke’s arm gently, but Hawke stood firm.

“It is where magisters keep their slaves. It is the perfect place: big, quiet – and most importantly – isolated. I have seen holding caves further along the trail to the North. We need to go, Hawke.”

The years of torture, ridicule, and slavery were bubbling up. Hawke knew Danarius had to die, and it started with Hadriana. She nodded, and hoped it was reassuring, “Lead the way.”

Hawke knew that words wouldn’t do much for Fenris at this point. It was where she proved she kept her promises – because the best reassurance to offer would be his former master laying dead at their feet.

* * *

 

To say that the Holding Caves were decrepit would be an understatement. Hawke could hear the dirt and rubble beneath her feet, the shift of rocks and dust overhead. Not to mention the fact that Merrill was now guiding her instead of Fenris, who was relentlessly plowing ahead. It was one thing to be cautious, but another to have Merrill tripping over her own two feet. Hawke appreciated the thought but at this point, she figured it would be safer to just walk alone. Thankfully, Varric stepped in and managed to grab Hawke’s sleeve whenever she came close to falling into a hole.

Then there was the abandoned slave Orana, who sounded so lost that Hawke _had_ to offer her _something_. She knew that if she gave the girl coin, it would be stolen within a day.

“You can go to Kirkwall, work in my estate.”

She thought the proposition was harmless enough, until Fenris told her exactly what he thought of the arrangement. “I did not think you were in the business of slavery.” He spat, and it took her a moment to reply, too stunned to think that he was _serious._ That after all this time, he believed her capable of turning back on her word just because someone was desperate enough for a way out.

“She would be a servant Fenris, I was planning on paying her.” Hawke explained, a bit wounded, though a part of her understood. The room was silent before he begrudgingly apologized, though Hawke raised her hand and shook her head, saying there was no need to do such a thing. After directing Orana where to go to find Hawke’s estate (with Varric’s help), they continued down the path where Hadriana lay waiting.

Hawke was lead by Varric still, and when they reached Hadriana, no one had to tell her. She _felt_ it. She could feel the burst of lyrium under Fenris’ skin – she could feel the tingling sensation of energy around her. It burst within her, lightning crackling, electrifying, forcing submission onto the one who tortured her friend for so long.

With such a small area to fight, it felt like minutes before Hadriana fell to the floor, her magic fizzling, ineffective. Hawke didn’t know this woman – didn’t _want_ to know this woman; but at the same time she wanted to see the person responsible for Fenris’ hatred. Was it possible for someone to be so capable of such crimes without feeling responsible?

And then, she heard the desperation, words spilling from the apprentice’s mouth – promising anything to Fenris in exchange for her life.

Anger bubbled within Hawke, almost unable to keep it caged and then suddenly Hadriana shrieked.

“You have a sister!”

The lyrium diffused in the room, Hawke listening for the sound of Fenris’ sword being put away. There was the clinking of metal, and then the brush of leather.

“Tell me everything you know.” Fenris demanded, his voice low, eerily calm.

“In exchange for my life?” Hadriana clarified. There was a pause.

“Hawke.” He said. More a statement, but intended as a question. He was asking for her _opinion._ In such a personal matter, she couldn’t dictate such a thing.

“This is your call.”

“You have my word.” He said, directed at the sniveling apprentice.

Hadriana wasted no time in giving him as much information as she was able to divulge. For a brief moment, Hawke wondered if Fenris would –

“I believe you.”

The burst of energy coming from the lyrium in his veins put an end to that thought. He would never. Hadriana did not deserve to be forgiven, and with a satisfying crack of bone and flesh, she was dead.

When the lyrium receded, the room felt heavy. Hawke could only hear her breathing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she hazarded and was immediately meant with an explosive breath.

“No! I don’t want to _talk about it!”_ Fenris replied, sounding wounded, absolutely insulted that she would insinuate such a thing. Before Hawke got out an apology, he began talking about the so-called sister, and how impossible it would be to find her when he was being hunted down himself.  

Perhaps he did want to talk about it.

“We could try to –”

“All of this was caused by magic. Hadriana finally lay dead and I am _glad._ You _saw_ what was done here. Mages will use any excuse for power! _”_ his voice laced with revulsion.

Hawke, unable to say anything sufficient to quell his anger, simply listened. Suddenly, realizing the severity of his words, Fenris paused.

“I…I need to go.” He said, and then she heard his retreating footsteps. He went as he always did: running. Fenris was good at it. Hawke knew that this was the beginning of the end for his former master – counting down the days it took for him to seek Fenris out.

She vowed to be ready.

* * *

It was late in the evening when she decided to leave the Hanged Man.

“Tired already, Hawke?” Varric asked when she stretched. She smiled, and stood up.

“I really should be going. Long day and all that. You know the rest, Varric.”

“You could stay here if you want, Hawke. I’ve got plenty of room.”

“As much as I adore having sleepovers with you, I should make sure Orana has settled in.” She hoped the elf had made it safely back to her estate.

“In that case, I better walk you home.” Varric stood, the chair scraping on the wooden floor, the rough fabric of his jacket brushing against the metal of his necklace.

He opened the door, leading Hawke out into the streets and towards Hightown. When their boots began to scuff on stone rather than dirt, a rumble shook the sky. The air felt as if it were vibrating around them, and Hawke had to clench her jaw from feeling the force echo against her teeth.

“Andraste’s tits, was that thunder?” Hawke said after it subsided.

“We might even see lightning.” Varric replied.

“ _You_ might see lightning.” Hawke clarified.

“If you were genuinely sensitive to that sort of thing, I would apologize.”

“I am genuinely sensitive!” she feigned, and after a brief silence, she laughed. “When I get my eyesight back, we can watch a lightning storm together, Varric. How about it?”

“Hawke, are you asking me on a date?”

“I’m sorry, I know, lightning dates are pretty serious. Perhaps I’m moving too fast.”

She could practically hear the smirk on Varric’s face. “No no, consider me seduced. I would love to go on a lightning date with you.”

Rain began to fall by the time they turned into the estate area. It made the staircases wet, but she knew where she was.

“Varric, go back to the Hanged Man, I’m fine from here.” She said, as the rain began pouring in earnest.

She had trouble hearing him over the sound of water hitting the pavement. “You sure? I can’t afford to keep both you _and_ Merrill from wandering the streets.”

“Go! You’ll get sick and then you’ll make me feel bad.” She laughed, the rain refreshing, droplets of water catching on her nose and mouth. Another hit of thunder shook beneath her feet.

“I’ll drop by in the morning to make sure you made it. Don’t get lost!” he said, retreating back down the staircase. Hawke listened to the rain for a moment longer before she began walking.

Taking this path every day with Fenris made it practically memorized: past the pillar, under the long row of vines stretching to the right corner, and straight to the alcove of her estate. Feeling along the wall, she knew where she was, and quickly opened the front door.

“Maker’s flaming ass,” she said, realizing the rain had soaked through her shoes and most of her armor. Hawke unhooked her gauntlets, taking off her shoulder guards, and kicking off her shoes, walking into the main hall. She heard the shifting of feet, and paused.

“Bodahn? Is that you?” she called, and the person cleared their throat.

“I was beginning to worry.” A voice very _not_ Bodahn said.

“Fenris!” she exclaimed, brushing her hair from her face, feeling her face heat. She was certain she looked like a disaster. Did he know she was nervous? “I was wondering where you were. Bodahn let you in?” She smiled, trying to hide her anxiety.

“Bodahn took Sandal and Orana to Ostwick for the next week. Here.” He explained, handing her one of the towels set out at the alcove, and she had a vague recollection of Bodahn mentioning needing supplies. Honestly, she should pay more attention when people talk to her, especially since it was her primary sense now. Or, _for_ now.

“Ah! Thank you.” She took the towel and pressed it to her face before replying. “Right, I keep forgetting about the whole ‘travel’ part of being a travelling merchant.” She joked; realizing that it was not an appropriate time for such things. She let her voice die out, brushing the droplets of water from her arms.

Finally, Fenris spoke. “I needed to apologize.” She heard him walk closer. “Hadriana’s death – I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. You did nothing wrong.”

“You don’t need to say sorry to me,” Hawke reassured him. “I’ve got thicker skin than that.”

“It was just…” he sighed. “I do not mean to trouble you.”

“Fenris.” She shook her head. “You could never trouble me. What’s bothering you?”

He paced in front of her, sighing once. “When I was a slave, Hadriana did everything in her power to make me miserable in every way possible. She would do anything to please Danarius. No matter the maltreatment, I had to submit.” Hawke could hear the scratching of Fenris’ gauntlets, leather against metal as he clenched his fists. “I could not let her walk free. Not after what she’d done, but part of me wished I could’ve.”

Hawke frowned, trying to understand. “You wanted to let her go?”

“I wanted to _prove_ I was stronger than the hatred they made me feel. Whether it be Hadriana or Danarius, I did not want to be under that control again.” He stopped and exhaled, “It does not matter now. She is dead, and I—”

“You’re not weak for wanting revenge.” Hawke reassured him, wanting more than anything to be able to convey that. “You deserve to be free, and if that means killing them because they won’t let you be, then I say do it.” She smiled. “They are fools for chasing after a free man.”

“ _Hawke,”_ Fenris said, and she felt a touch at her wrist, another at her back, and he was… holding her.

“Fenris?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

“You mean that?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his hold on her tightening, his hand pressing into the small of her back. She let out a soft gasp, her hand gripping the front of his breastplate.

“Every word.” She assured, and then his lips were on hers. She closed her eyes on instinct, wrapping her free hand around his neck, kissing him back feverishly. He was backing her up, and she felt the wall, solid and safe. He moved to her neck, unintentionally eliciting a small noise from Hawke that made him press into her harder.

Hawke felt like she couldn’t breathe, but if she stopped, she would suffocate. She was drowning. She kissed him again and he brushed his tongue against hers just as thunder shook the estate again. His hand – Fenris’ hand was reaching lower, and her hands had made it to his face. She held him an inch away, feeling his breath on her lips.

“Fenris,” she said, sounding a bit more frantic than she meant to.

He hesitated, his chest heaving. “Y-yes?”

She kissed him again, for good measure, and because he sounded equally embarrassed.

“My room?”

“Yes.” He replied, and she kissed the corner of his mouth as he picked her up. She grazed her teeth along his jaw, and down his throat while he climbed the staircase. He was making noises she didn’t recognize – noises that she _wanted_ to recognize. With further research. Lots of research.

They had to pause a few times, Fenris backing her onto the wall midway up the stairs to claim her mouth again. Hawke swore she was dying and this was a dream. Every time she touched his bare skin, she could feel the tingling of the lyrium between them. When they reached her room, she felt one of his arms shift to unhook his breastplate. He swore in Tevene when he struggled with his gauntlets and she laughed, despite being beyond embarrassed, and despite the way Fenris was holding her ass.

His mouth was hot when she kissed him again. She reached for the remainder of the armor she hadn’t shucked off in the main hall. Her tunic was damp, and she untucked it from her pants while Fenris didn’t hesitate to pull it over her head at the earliest opportunity. Her pants were next, and then she could hear him struggling to get out of his…

“I don’t think your pants are tight enough.” She joked, and Fenris – being the perfect man he was – laughed. He _laughed._

“It’s getting awfully cold alone here on the bed in my skivvies.”

“Who says skivvies?” Fenris asked, a teasing tone. The thunder rumbled again, and she felt his weight press into her, skin on skin. She sighed, wanting more, wanting everything.

“I do.” She said, not even bothering for another snarky reply, too busy feeling him brush his fingers along her arms, her waist. He bit her neck and she groaned, grinding herself against him, against anything at this point. He wasted no time in removing the last of her clothes; his hands ghosting down the inside of her thighs. She gasped, swearing, breathless. He tentatively touched her with his fingers, gentle, maddening. He kissed her throat as she sighed, murmuring encouragements as she became taut as a string.

“Maker,” she said "Can I touch you,"

"Hawke," He managed to choke out, "Yes." so close she felt her stomach leap. She sighed, tightening her grip on his arms. She could smell the tang of lyrium on his skin, she could feel the chill of it on her fingers. She brushed her hands along his arms, his waist, his neck. He was –

Fenris positioned himself on top of her now, groaning when he pressed against her. Hawke was practically shaking with want under him. Even if his hands bit into her waist a little harder, he was gentle where their bodies met.

Hawke couldn’t see Fenris, but she didn’t have to in order to know. He was absolutely panting, sounding just as desperate as she was.

They moved together, and he pressed his lips in the crook of her neck, his breath labored and hot. She was pooling heat – a contrast to where her hands touched him. All those times Fenris gave Hawke his lyrium made any contact practically second nature. Both of them touched each other in particular ways that were automatic, instinctive. She could feel sparks – from magic or from lyrium, Hawke cannot tell. She is exhausted but she hurries their rhythm, giving him an open kiss as he moans.

“Are you—” he swears again.

“ _Yes,_ ” she says, and with only that as a warning, she comes, gripping him, practically weeping with pleasure. She squeezes his arms, lyrium sparking, cold, and she is hot, and the markings are so _bright_. Fenris follows suit, his mouth at her ear, and she clenches against him until he’s groaning her name like a prayer.

For a moment, there is nothing. Fenris still lays on top of her, breathing heavy. Then, they disentangle from one another, and Hawke’s eyes are closed. She is exhausted beyond words.

She drifts to sleep.

* * *

 

When she wakes, it is still dark. A blanket had been placed on top of her. She hears Fenris next to her, clipping his breastplate in place.

“Fenris?” she asks, and he turns to her, in the silence. “Do they hurt?" He shakes his head. He says it isn't that. "You’re leaving.” She concludes. Not a question: a statement. A fact. An end.

“I…started to remember bits of my life before the markings.” He was looking for an explanation to offer. A better one. “I cannot move this fast, Hawke. I am not ready.”

Hawke’s head is tilted toward him as he stands. He murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

She thinks she sees a flash of color as he leaves. Something red – a color she hadn’t seen in so long it takes her a moment to figure out the name of it. By the time she remembers, Fenris is gone.

Hawke is exhausted; she doesn’t have the energy to be angry or upset. She feels something, but it is late and the room is dark. She puts it at the back of her mind, surrendering to sleep again. Remembering only red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for waiting so patiently!  
> I have planned out the last instalment in one more chapter, so please look forward to it.  
> comments are always welcome


	10. Chapter 10

When Hawke wakes, she is alone.

She shivers once, turning over. It takes her a moment to remember that Bodahn took Sandal and Orana to Ostwick. Hopefully when they returned, she could help the young girl fit in like family. She shivers again, this time it wracks her frame and she knows something is wrong.

Hawke can feel the fever creeping into her bones.

Perhaps last night's sprint through the downpour was not the smartest idea. Thankfully, Hawke still had Craig to keep her company. She whistled to him from her room after putting on her lighter and dryer armor. He barked once, trotting into her room and allowing her to put a leash around him.

Perhaps the best thing to do would be to go to the market and pick up something healthy for dinner. Corff’s stew would do nothing for her incessant headache.

As she clipped on the rest of her armor, she saw another flash of blinding color –- yellow. It was brief, but it made her pause and close her eyes. She opened them again, but there was nothing. Hawke shrugged, writing it off as a side effect of her headache. She managed to find all the pieces of her armor she had discarded the previous night, but most of the heavier cloth was still damp. She settled on hanging them on the handrail of the staircase for now, and vowed to bring them outside when she returned.

Craig guided her out into the Hightown districts, the stone already hot beneath her boots despite the rain during the night. “Just some vegetables and we can go home, Craig.” She said to the mabari, who barked once in agreement. She made it down to the Hightown markets with noticeable difficulty.

As Hawke spoke to a merchant, she felt another dizzy spell and had to put a hand on Craig lest she fall into the poor farmer's arms. Noticing her difficulty, the merchant spoke.

"Messere are you certain you're alright? You look deathly pale."

It took Hawke far too long to reply, blindly holding out a few coin and asking for carrots. What did they look like again?

The merchant hurriedly gathered her the vegetables. He packed the basket with something else but Hawke was paying little attention at this point; the merchant could have snuck a Templar under the carrots and she wouldn't have suspected a thing. Craig didn't find it particularly suspicious, and that was good enough for her. She gave the merchant the money and instructed the mabari to bring her back to the estate.

Walking up the numerous sets of stairs that decorated Hightown was much more difficult when hallucinating. Hawke struggled every step, the basket in her right hand getting heavier and heavier. She could feel the heat at the nape of her neck.

Another flash of color hit her -- red, and she leaned on a nearby pillar. She closed her eyes again, her forehead beading with sweat. Flashes of oranges, yellows, and whites assaulted her at once, unable to catch her breath. Craig whined in concern, nudging her left hand with his nose, sniffing it to try and figure out what was ailing her.

"Craig," she whispers, her voice hoarse. Her consciousness slips "I think I'm--"

The last thing she feels is cold stone hitting her cheek.

* * *

 

Something strong lifted her.

She found the stillness that followed was somehow familiar and relaxing. A smell so distinct, but she cannot place it.

Hawke does not want to open her eyes.

Consciousness slips.

* * *

The second time Hawke woke up, she was groggy and confused. Her body was aching, exhausted, and she was --

In bed.

She tried to sit up but was stopped when a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Lay back, Hawke." He spoke, his voice deep and thick with concern.

"Fenris, but how--"

"Your mabari barked at my window until all of Hightown grew angry." He explained, a sour note in his voice. "I went outside and you were collapsed in the square."

"Lovely." Was her reply, going to wipe her bangs from her forehead out of habit but finding a cool cloth instead.

"Your fever persisted." Fenris said. She was touched that he would stay to take care of her, but at the same time—

“You didn’t have to do this.” She said, and he answered with a grunt.

“It does not bother me.” He replied, and she thinks of what it must have been like when Danarius fell ill. To serve the man you hate while he lies sick and at your mercy.

Fenris probably didn’t think of it at all, and so she shuts the thought out of her mind.

“It is fine if it’s you.” He clarified after she did not reply, and she tries her best to smile.

Hawke wondered if it was the fever that made her speak. Made her say anything for him to alleviate her growing anxiety. "Where are the carrots?"

"They are in the kitchen."

"I need to make--" she went to sit up but found she did not have the energy.

"Enough with your struggling. You need to rest."

She whined despite herself, already sick of being sick.

"I am already making something on the stove." He offered, and she thinks for a moment to tell him of the colours behind her eyelids but she forgets the train of thought when she feels his bare fingers on her forehead. He moves to refresh the cloth for her fever, and the gesture lulls her to sleep.

She slips into the Fade again.

Hawke doesn't know how long she'd been sleeping when she woke up the third time.

"What time is it?" She asked aloud, wondering if Fenris remained.

He did, and he replied gently. "It is late afternoon.” He replied. “Here, for you." She felt his hands guide her to sit up in bed, and then his caution as he placed a bowl in her hands. “It is broth, do not spill it.”

“Luckily you don’t have Merrill’s hand-eye coordination.” She offered as a joke, and she hears him huff a laugh in reply. Hawke is surprised when she finds the liquid tasted savoury. It was similar to the soup Varric made when they spent their nights on the Wounded Coast, but the flavours were simpler and lighter. The broth was nothing particularly fancy but it was warm and good and she could taste a hint of carrot.

"Thank you, Fenris." She said, and meant it truly. The fog of her fever started dissipating.

"Varric taught me. The recipe. It is not nearly as good as his, but," Fenris cleared his throat.

"No, really. It's perfect." She smiled, and finished the broth.

They sat in silence for a while, and Hawke felt comforted in knowing he was there.

"I will have to return the favor if you ever get sick." Hawke offered. Hinting that she wanted this to continue – that she wanted him to remain with her regardless if it were friends or…

"Hawke..."

"Whatever happens." She said quick as lightning. "We are friends, aren't we? Above all else."

"Yes." He replied, emotion rising in his voice. She did not want to push him, and she knew being there with her so soon was making him feel guilty. She needed to alleviate his regrets, because Hawke knew that she valued his friendship more than anything. She would not lose him to this.

"Then I will be here for you, because I care for you. Whatever you need."

"Thank you, Hawke." The relief in his voice was evident just with that, and Hawke was content. It was too soon, and neither of them needed to discuss it. That was enough.

She wanted to get up but felt another headache, and her mind was clear enough that she could figure out where it was coming from.

"Are you well?" Fenris asked, and she felt him take the bowl from her hands. She heard the dull clink of the ceramic as it was placed on the nearby table, and then she leaned forward. The throbbing was behind her eyes, a stabbing pain that got worse when she blinked.

"My head -- no, it's my eyes. It hurts."

"Your eyes? Do you need --" he stopped, inching closer to hold her wrist. "Give me your hands. I am here."

Fenris remained. He wanted to help, and so Hawke did not deny him. She put her hands out as the lyrium tingled in the air around them. Hawke pressed on, drawing out the markings in his palms.

The flashes of light, they were behind her eyes. She did not want to heal more than necessary but it felt different somehow. She could feel something so close, as if she could feel the last step, despite her better judgement and then--

It was not painful it was something else. Like lightning mixing in the blood of a group of slavers, like Merrill interlocking her fingers when she prayed to the Elven gods, like the massive chain links that held Kirkwall upright in the waters. It was a connection that she just hadn't been able to reach -- a seam that couldn’t be closed.

The burst of lyrium from the previous night jump started the last bits of healing magic Hawke needed. Something that had taken such immense concentration was at her fingertips because she had allowed it to become automatic, allowed it to become second nature. She could hear Fenris murmuring something, tightening his grip on her arms in support.

Hawke gave, and Fenris took.

Fenris gave, and Hawke...

She stopped drawing from Fenris' markings slowly, her urgency was no longer there, and he asked if she was all right.

Hawke opened her eyes and they started to water. The colours were there, her irises were clear.

"Fenris, you're a blob." She laughed, a sob bubbling up that dissipated with her giggle.

She could see him. He could see her, he was looking at her and _Maker_ but he was so handsome. Even if her vision wasn't quite clear, she could make out everything that she had so sorely missed. The markings on his face were still alight from their connection, the angle of his cheekbones, his nose, the curve of his lips when he smiled. His green eyes watched her, shocked, amazed, elated.

She laughed again, and he brushed his hand on hers, looking relieved beyond comprehension.

Maker, they had finally done it.

"Hawke your eyes," he was smiling and it was all teeth and she could do nothing but smile in return.

"Yes!"

"You can see--"

"Everything Fenris!"

And they couldn't help but sit there smiling like fools as she memorized his face again. She grinned while he tentatively brushed the hair from her face, re-acquainting herself with the way his brows knit together and how his eyes watched her, measuring her expressions and mirroring them as his own. Hawke laughed again, something free and beautiful, watching Fenris hopelessly smooth the bed head from his eyes.

“It’s good to see you.”

* * *

Perhaps it had been as simple as a promise.

Two people who agreed upon something bigger than either of them. She said she would help kill Danarius, and Fenris said he would help regain her vision.

Hawke was glad, however, that his promise was fulfilled first -- because standing up in the Hanged Man against the magister who enslaved your closest friend was one thing. Seeing the way Fenris reacted to the death of Danarius was another. She watched the unimaginable relief wash over him, the breath he had been holding for what seemed like a lifetime escaped him, and he sighed.

He was free.

With her new eyes, Hawke appreciated more than just seeing. She tried to uncover the things she could not have found out otherwise. So when he turned on his sister, Hawke saw it differently. She saw the way Varania held herself: proud but afraid of the world crumbling beneath her feet. The way she cowered away from the brother she used to know as someone else entirely. The dirt caught between her nails as if she had been scrabbling to stay alive for her entire life, alone.

She could not let Fenris do this to her. To himself.

Hawke shared a look with him, and it was enough of a reminder to know what they had lived without. What they had gained in trusting one another.

When she ran, Varania left him with pieces of his life that had been lost. Leto. A pledge he made for her freedom at the cost of his own.

He was not alone, and Hawke made sure to remind him of that.

Perhaps it had been as simple as a promise. Perhaps that was all it needed to be.

* * *

They helped Corff clean the blood in the Hanged Man, picking up glasses and furniture in silence. When the place was cleaner than it had been in years, the group retreated to Varric's quarters to play Wicked Grace.

Hawke healed Aveline's burns and scrapes while Varric dealt the cards. Isabela dropped in, helping Norah distribute the drinks around the table. Merrill slept on Varric's couch nearby, exhausted from the fight.

"Play fair this time, Varric. It's been a long day." Hawke chastised the dwarf as she caught him shuffling in an extra card.

"Play unfair? Champion, you wound me."

"That can be arranged." She said, half joking, and Varric smirked at her empty threat.

"Alright alright, as long as Rivaini agrees."

Isabela smiled, giving Varric a wink. "It's not cheating unless you get caught."

"And Broody."

"I do not cheat." Fenris replied automatically. Varric scoffed.

"Either way. You win a lot and it's getting _very_ annoying."

"Are you going to play Varric, or be a sore loser?" Aveline raised a brow, while the Champion of Kirkwall laughed in surprise. Hawke’s eyes an icy spark in the light of the fireplace as she glanced between her two friends.

"Called out by the guard captain! I guess I know who my real friends are." Varric feigned betrayal.

The banter continued as the dwarf dealt the cards, Hawke folding on the first round.

Fenris nudged Hawke gently with an elbow, gesturing to the cards in his hand. Aveline was currently preoccupied with chastising Isabela, and Varric was checking on Merrill.

"What do you think?" He asked her, and she looked at his hand.

"You're asking my opinion? The one who’s so bad at Wicked Grace, _Merrill_ told me to stop?"

Fenris quirked a fleeting smile and leaned closer to her. "You've got a good eye."

"Two, actually. Thanks to you." She grins back and despite it being three years later, he still lets out a snort.

"I've been meaning to thank you, actually." Fenris said as he moved coin across the table.

"A promise is a promise." Hawke said, despite her breath catching when his leg touches hers, when he leans impossibly closer.

"Hey! No canoodling in the middle of a match!" Varric called after tucking Merrill in with a blanket. Fenris did not seem put off by the accusation. 

"You can't make the rules if you keep losing, Varric!" Hawke pointed at the dwarf automatically, and he huffed in reply. 

The match ended with Varric's victory, despite everyone's groans of protest.

"I'm dealing." Fenris announced, and the dwarf begrudgingly gave the cards to him. Aveline used her _excellent_ talents in diplomacy, crossing her arms and glaring at Varric until he handed Fenris the deck.

The room goes quiet while Fenris deals, inspecting his cards and immediately folding.

"How's my hand?" Hawke asked, catching the smile tugging at his lips.

Fenris inched closer, a hand rested next to her thigh. Hawke felt her heart jump in her throat.

"It's good." He murmured, and her eyes flickered up to check if Varric was watching them.

He wasn't.

She still lost the round.

Hawke groaned into her hands as Aveline dealt the cards again. "That's it. I give up!"

She had been watching Fenris, hoping to learn how to properly deceive without giving everything away in a simple look. He smirked.

"Your gaze is too honest for a game of deception." He said.

"I suppose that's not a bad thing." Hawke scratches the back of her neck, trying not to jolt out of her seat when his gauntlet grazes her knee. She feels her face grow hot as she spies the red fabric knotted at his wrist. Hotter when his hand remains there. 

"It isn't." He leaned over, picking up more coin.

Hawke grinned when she spied Varric giving her a warning look, "Keep whispering like that and we're going to get in trouble." She murmured, taking a drink of her pint.

"I would not be opposed to continuing this conversation privately." Fenris replied behind his mug. They share a look: Fenris’ green eyes are honest, and unwavering. Hawke’s blue eyes reveal all her affections at once. Neither of their gazes falters. After a pause, she gives him an impish smile.

"I'll be looking forward to it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we come to the end, my friends! Thank you so much for reading. This has been a great accomplishment for me -- to see a story from beginning to end is extremely satisfying.  
> All of your comments have pushed me to finish this, and I am so delighted that you've all enjoyed it.  
> If you're wondering, no, this isn't the end of my writing for Fenris and Hawke. In fact, I'm eager to write more.  
> See you later!


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